
Glass. 



Book 



SILMH^Hri^l 



OF 



Modern Materialism 



INCULCATING THE IDEA OF A FUTURE. STATE, IN WHICH ALL 
WILL BE MORE HATPY, UNDER WHATEVER CIRCUM- 
STANCES THEY MAY BE PLACED, THAN IP THEY 
EXPERIENCED NO MISERY IN THIS LIFE. 



BY 



CHARLES KJVOWLTOIV, M. D, 



^' They who would advance in knowledge, and not deceive and 
swell themselves with a little arlicHhued air, sfjould lay down this 
as a fundamental rule, not to tnke words for things, nor suppose 
that names in books signify real entities in nature, till they can 
frame clear and distinct inens ofthost^ f^ntities." Locke. 



ADAMS, MASS.; 

PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY A. OAKEY. 
1829. 



■s.^'^''^'' 
^^l.'-'\ 



DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wit : 

District Clehk's Office. 

Be it remembered, That on th<? thirteenth dby of Jaai^ary, 
A |). ISi^J^, in the fiay ihirii year of the indf'pendenre of the Uni- 
ted States of America. CHAHiiKs Ksowlton, of the said District, 
has deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he 
claims as author and pr^iprietor, in the words following, to wit : 

'' Elements of l>fodern M?iterialism : inculcating the idea of a 
future state, in which all wi.l be more happy, under whatever cir- 
cumstances t/i^y may be placed, than if they experienced no misery 
in this life. By Cli<»rles Knowllon. M. D. 

*• They who would advance iji knowledge, and not deceive and 
swell themselves with a little articulated air, should lay down this 
as a fundamental rule, not to take words for things, nor suppose 
that names in books signify r« al entities in nature, till they can 
frame clear and distinct ideas of those entities. — Locke." 

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, 
entitled " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the 
copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of 
such copies, during the times ther^iu mentioned :" and also to 
an act entitled " An act supplemMitary to an act, entitled, An 
aci for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of 
maps, charts and book^s to the authors and proprietors of such co- 
pies during the tim'^s therein mentioned ; and extending the bene- 
fits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving and etching historical 
and other prints. 

JNO. W. DAVIS, 
Clerk of Ihe District of Massachusells. 



T© 



THE FRZXSNSS OF THUTR AVD INTBXXECU 

THIS WORK 



IS 



DEDICATED: 

As the strongest effort of a feeble pen, to brush away the scho* 
lasMC mist that has so long enveloped the intellectual phe- 
nomena, and served to foster many important errors — 

B¥ THE AUTHOR. 



Page 27, 11th line from bottom, read ^'wliat is, would be,^*&c. 
*' 34; I6th '* *' top, before th(^ word thing, insert 5«me. 
*' 50, 5th *^ " top, Tor »' Organical," read Organic^ 
" 58, 8th '• " bottom, for '^ by witches," read con- 

cprninif Witches. 
" 70, 14th " " top, for " ever knowing,'* read even 

knowings 
" 91, 2nd " " bottom, for •' or abdomen," read and 

abdomen. 
" 144, last line for '^ Page lOi '' read Pa^e 122. 
" 168, 14tb iine from top. for *• page 44 " read pas^e 41. 
*■ 193, I5th * *' bottom, r^ad " ideas o/" extension." 
" 195 last line, for <' others," read orders. 
** 295. 3d line from bottom, strike out the word "to" before 

the word constitute. 
*' 304, 12th line from bottom, strikeout the word John, 
" 318, 7th "' *' bottom, strike out ihe word r^ol. 
<« 370, 2d " <' top, read " the brain as the fiddler '' 
** 373, (which in a ie\v copies i? paged 337,) 15th line from 

t(»p, leave out the word in. 
" 374, 14th line from bottom, read, " will no( occur." 
"393, 8th'' " top, after the word /a///?, put a comma 

in room of the period. 
Besides the above, there a hw other errors, which the reader will 
find no difficulty in correcting. 



0:^ At page 28, the author has marfe some remarks concerning 
the word nature, thai will not bear criiiivsing : it must be aiimitted 
that the word has more than one meming " The universe of 
opinion " would be a very odd exfjres-ion. 

Also, at page 70, in the last pHragraph, there appears to be a 
blunder, which the nutbor fears the reader will not be able to cor- 
rect. He considers the faculty of man to communicate his ideas by 
sign?, an ncquired hcuhy ; but he is not able to acquire this facul- 
ty f.'er^nisr his vocal org;ms are better tlian those of a horse, but 
because he possesses imnds, and a beller brainy than a horse. 



CONTENTS, 




Preface, 
CHAP. I. 



Page, 



Which IS the most rational supposition, that 
a being exists lohich never eommenced ex- 
istence, or that a being commenced exis- 

tence zvithout an antecedent F 9 

II.— On Matter, 15 

III. — On the Universe, Power, Cause, Effect, ^c. 19 
V. — On Deity, and the Relation which subsists 
be'ween the Creator and the Events of 

the Universe, - - - - 29 

V. — On Action or Change, - - . 41 

VI. — On Union — Mechanical, Chemical, and yj-^ 

Organic, ----- 50 

VII.— On Vegetables^ - - - 59 

VI 11. — General Remarks concerning Animals, 63 

IX. — On the jSfervous System, - - - 73 

X. — On the Muscular System, - - - 88 
XI. — On the Relation rvhich subsists betweeii the 

Muscular and Nervous Systems, - 117 

XII. — On Sensation and Perception, - 168 

XIII. — On Ideas and Sensorial Tendencies, 188 

XIV. — On Remembering, - - - 209 

XV. — On Imagining, - - - - 213 

XV\.— On Signs, 216 

XYU.— On Judging, - - - - 238 

XYUL— On Belief, - ... 257 

XIX.~0« Knowledge, . - _ - 270 

XX. — On Personal Identity, * - - 275 

XXI.— On. Volition, - . - - 285 

XXU. — On the Passions, - - - 309 

XXUL^On Religion, - - - - 321 



vi. CONTENTS. 

QHAP. XXIV. — On Phenomena referred to Instinct^ 332 
XXV. -On Sleep, - - . . 341 

XXVI. — On Dreaming, Somnambulism and 

Sommloquism, - - - 345 

XXVII.— On Insanity, - - - - 365 

XXY\\\,—On Idiotism, - - - - 367 

XXIX.— On Death and Dying, - - 370 

XXX. — An Attempt to show that Materialism is 
as consistent with Christianity as Im- 
materialism, - - - - 377 

XXXI.— On a Future State, - - - 397 

XXXIl. — On Human Happiness, Good and 

Evil, Morality, ^c. - - 403 

XXXIII. — A Brief Sketch of the Opinions of 
several Ancient and Modern Phi- 
losophers concerning the Consti- 
tution and Phenomena of Man: 
Given partly for the purpose of 
showing that the Hypothesis of 
Soul gave rise, to the sceptical phi- 
losophy 0/ Berkley and Hume, 418 

XXXIV.— .^ Refutation of Professor Sfewart^s 
Argument for the existence of Soul 
or Mind, - - - . 426 

XXXV. — Professor Lawrence'^s Lecture on the 

Functions oj the brain, - 432 

XXXVI.— Some of the difficulties that attend 
the Hypothesis of Soul, but do not 
attend the doctrine of Materialism^ 441 

Conclusion, - - * - - - - 446 



PnSPAOE. 



I am out at last, in the condilion you see me. My author has 
had to conieod with iDany difficulties in bringing rae forth ; afld he 
Wf^uld have me su^gest to you, that it" the circunntaiires under which 
hf has composed me, wtre known, they would be considered as 
suffi ient apology for many minor errors But for his attempting 
to write under such circim)stances. he can offer n(»thin^ better than 
his conviction that he is able to throw consideiable light upon sev- 
eral very important and very interesting subjects — He firmly be- 
lieves that the leading principles which 1 contain, are true ; and 
that by the diffusion of truth, the happiness of the human family 
will in the end be promoted. He is awaie however, that many 
persons strangely ground their hopes of a future state, in the exist- 
ence of a thing which I shall convince you has no being in nature ; 
a thing which almost all philosop'iers who maintain its existence, 
admit to be unextended, and consequently not a millionth part as 
large as a pin's head ; — a thing which ttiey call Soul or iMind, but 
which is not declared in the Word of God to be immortal, and the 
ceaseloss existence of which — admitting it to be such a feeling, 
thinking thing as maintained — is inconsistent with the doctrine of 
resurrection, as set forth in the Christian Scriptures. Such per- 
sons — though they rnay have their curiosity gratified by perusing 
me — will not be pleased with the sentiments which 1 contain ; un- 
less I succeed in convincing them that iheir future existence in a 
state of consciousness, does not at all depend on the existence of 
this unextended tliiui; Bui this 1 may be able to do ; for by show- 
ing what personal identily does in truth consist in, I shall remove 
the difficulties that have been supposed to allerui the dociriue of a 
future state, if the doctrine of MATtRlALI^]M be admitted. 

As " The proper study of uankind is man," and as a knowledge 
of himself is the most usetul knowhdge he can acquire- that is, the 
most conducive to his happitiess — it is intended that I be sluded 
(for I am. not written merely to please the taste) by all classes of 
readers ; consequently I am not exactly the same thing I should 
have been, had I been designed for any one class in particular. 
And while men of science, and especially medical men, will find 
many facts already known to them ; the less learned will tneet 
with a few technical terms with which they ^re unacquainted But 
I may, perhaps, be lound interesting thnmghout, even to medical 



viii. PREFACE. 

gendemen ; for thpse facts are brought forward and arranged with 
a (l^'siiin to establish the important inferences my fiuihor has drawn 
frooj ihfm. And as to technical terms, in altnost all cases they are 
so brought in, that jihe reader will know their meaning as soon as he 
comes to them. 

As it is believed that I contain a new system of notions, — that 
my merits may not be wrongly appreciated, it is my nuthor's ur- 
gent request tha? the reader either put me aside at once, or read 
nie throuiih attentively, asid in order, from beginning to end — If 
ray eleventh chapter be tbund rather tedious, it is necessary that it 
be attentively read, to the ritjht understanding of what follows. 

That my author might " begin at the beginning," and that he 
might have a fit opportunity to adv mce a few ideas for the consid- 
eration of those who love to tlsmk ; he has inserted my first chap- 
ter : though he cannot see as it has any connexion with my lead- 
ing principles. 

Exceptiuij what i^ contained in three or four chapters, I contain 
very littie th^t is taken from other books Nor has my author en- 
deavored to exhaust any of the various subjects of which he has 
treated — Hh ' as made truth his pole star, and steered right ahead, 
laying down his principles, and explaining the phenomena of man 
up 'U the-e principles vv;thout tuniingto the right or left to favcror 
oppose any sect or party ; if he have done either, it is because it 
came in his way. 

He does not ?ay he presents me to an enlightened, imparhal, 
and intprpjud'ced public, by whose decision I must stand or /all 5 
for there is no sucli public in existence. 

It is expected the critics will fall to nibbling my .soft parts — of 
M'hich 1 possess a pretty good share - bui my author will never be 
troubled for this, should it be found that they aie unable to destroy 
my bones. 

Mams f January 2^ih, 1829. 



OF 

MODERN MATERIALSM. 



CHAPTER I. 

Which is (he most ralonal supposilion, thai a being fxisls which 
never commenced txistence, or that a being commenced exist' 
ence rvilhout an antecedent ? 

The sentiment, that a being exists which never commenced 
existence, or, what is the same thmg, mai a uemg (exists which 
has existed from all eternity, appears to us to favor atheism ; 
for, if one being exist which never commenced existence, why 
not another — why not the universe ? It weighs nothing, says 
the atheist, in the eye of reason, to say the universe appears 
to man as though it were organized by an Almighty Designer; 
/or the maker of a thing must be superior to the thing made ; 
and if there be a Maker oftheuniverse^ there can be no doubt 
but that if such Maker were minutely examined by man, man 
would discover such indications of wisdom and design, that it 
would be more difficult for him to admit that such Maker was 
iiot caused or co[istructed by a pre-existing Designer, than to 
admit (hat ihe universe was not caused or constructed by a 
Designer. But no one will contend for an infinite series of 
Makers ;.and if, continues the atheist, what would, if viewtd, 
be indications of design, are no proof of a designer in the one 
case, they are not in the other ; and as such indications are 
the only evidence we have of the existence of a Designer of 
the universe, we, as rational beings, contend there is no God# 



We 3o nnt srrrpf>«p \he existence of anytieTng of whfcTi ihtrh 
is no ev.deiice, when such supposition, if admitied, so far from 
diminishing, would only increase a difficulty which is at best 
Bifficienlly grt at. Surely, if a superior being may have ex* 
isied from all eternity, an inferior may have existed from all 
eternity ;— if a great God, sufKciently mighty to make a world, 
5nay have ex'Sted from all eternity, of course without begin. 
ring and without cause, such world may have existed from 
all eternity, without beginning, without cause. 

Such being the argument!^ which atheists may advance, on 
ihv supposition that a bemg exists which never commenced 
existence ; we, as firm believers in the existence of an intelli* 
gent Creator of <he unr verse, shall endeavor to show that it i9 
more rptmn^l to suODOse th.i o K.I.a ^^n.^o.o..4 ..Utence 
iv.thout an antecedent, than to suppose that a bemg existB 
fyhinh never began to exist. 

It wiH be admitted that a man can no more conceive 0(9, 
teing existing from all eternity, in the common sense of the 
word ett rnity, than he can conceive of space extending so fap 
that there is no conceivable space beyond. Let us think back 
e? far as we pleae^e, in spite of us it will seem as though every 
being, agent, or entity, which does exist, must some time op 
Other have commem ed existence. We may verbally admit 
that a being has existed from all eternity ; but still, this/ro7» 
all tte.rniiy will seem to us as from some very distant period 
OF commencement. It gives a close thinker no satisfaction 
to tell him that a being has tx.sted 'rom all eternity: he caa 
have no such notion as these words are intended, and perhaps 
8.ij>posed, to convey ; and he is more and more convinced of 
this, the more he eiidfca\( r^ to form such notion. 

Lei us say that eteruity is co-extensive with time, and that 
tioi^ iS tuat pan 01 Uurauou m wiiich a bting lias tt&isted. Wg^ 



n 

Hiafl thus liare a sort of fixed point, orsfarffnsf p^are ? STift 
#an saj that the Deity has existed during all eienuly. 

Now it follows, according to our use of the woid time, that 
prior to the commencement of time, nothing was — neitheP 
matter, nov laws of nature. It had not been decreed that no 
effect shall take place without cause, — it was not then a law 
of nature that every event shah be preceded by some othep 
€vent ; that no being sh^U exist except it be caused to 
exist, and this too in a certain way. Hence it was just as 
likely that a being should commeur*^ ^Kistence as otherwaysj 
there was no reason why a bein^ shouM comfrence cxistenr® 
and no reason why a being should not — nt>thn)ii to raus» to 
be, or to prevent from being, and a being commenced exist* 
et>ce. Now this being, whatever it migh.^ he, was all-power- 
fiil, considering the relation in which it stood ; foj indeed., as 
nothing else existed, it stood rn relation with nothing •. no lavf 
or power existed to oppose or be opposed, and it mis;ht as 
well be one thing as another, hideed, it is not unreasonable 
to suppose ihat this being underwent, as we may say^fortui* 
^ws changes — pt* iliaps many millions of them— before it be» 
c»me a thmking Being. But after th<s, He decreed : hence- 
forth NOTHING SHALL BE EXCkPT AT MV Pi.EASURB ; and it 

was and ever has been so. For the decree of fhts Bemg was, 
and the decree of any other being under the same circumst *n* 
»ts would have been, sutiicient to dt- termine any thing. (It 
takes but little to turn the scale when there is no weij^ht ia 
the other end.) 

God now willed a universe into existence,* and Order was 

*u , ^ ■ . 

*lt was a dogniH of hII ihe ancient s hools of pliiIosi»phy. that 
matter could not be created oui ot itnthms:^ hy niiy pt-wer whuiever, 
and snch is !he opinion of surne nKxIein pil'sopheis VVV shall 
Hut euter lutu auj luug Uiscubiiiuu ol iin<> ^utbiiua ^ w« b«U«Y^ 



12 

•svas the second decree of Heaven : it was decree^i that noth- 
ing shall act until it be acted on, and the same antecedents 
shall be invariably succeeded by the same consequents, under 
the same circumstances. This was the law of order. Elec- 
tricity now sprung forth and prevaded all thmgs. This is the 
main-spring of the universe, which the Deity caused to be — 
it is the essential cause of all actions or changes, — it is the ma- 
terial life of a material world. 

Now it was in heaven decreed that no being shall com* 
xnence existence without cause and that like antecedents shall 
be invariaby succeedecl by like consequents, under the same 
circumstances, before any nrtan existed. Consequently no 
man ever saw a being commence existence without cause ; 
instead of this, man sees that certain agents acting under cer- 
tain circumstances, are invariably succeeded by certain ac- 
tions or changes of certain other agents ; and this gives rise 
to the belief — and to the language by which we express 

li that agents or bodies possess intrinsick /jozwsr^ of prod uring 

changes in each other, and that nothing can and (forgettmg 
that the laws ol nature were totally dJfFerent before there 



however, that on a full consideration of the subject, it will appear 
that we may as well admit that matter might commence existence, 
as to admit many other things which no one denies. To say that 
matter was created out of nothing, is to state the simple fact that 
mailer commenced existence, in rather bad language To create 
out o/' irresistibly conveys the idea of to create oul of soimething, 
and the expresson to create oul of nothing seems to involve a con- 
tradiction, besides being an expression of that which is inconceiva- 
ble Let us say that the Deity willed it, and matter immediately 
commenced existence. Here are two events between which there 
is no intHrvening event, and we say we cannot conceive how or why 
the subsequent event followed the antecedent ; but it will be made 
to =sppear, in the course cf this work, that in every case in which 
Qr\^ t'vent immediaiely succeeds another we cannpt conceive how 
®r why. 



13 

were any laws of nature) never could commence existence, 
except it be caused to exist by something which possesses the 
power of causing it to exist. 

But suppose the laws of nature, and consequently man'i! 
experience, had been intirely different ; suppose that no man 
ever saw any event preceded or succeeded by another par* 
ticiilar event more than ohce ; suppose it were a very com-r. 
mon and every-day thing to see men. machines, rocks, trees^ 
^rc. springing at once into existence, even in a vacuum, un- 
der all sorts of circumstances or no circumstance at all] to 
see heavy bodies rise into the air without {"orce at one time 
but not at another, though under the same circumstances ; to 
see precisely the same kind of oil mix with water at one time, 
though noi at another; in short, suppose all events took place 
without any order or regularity, would any one think that 
every ev^ni must be preceded by some other event, that one 
body has the power of producing a change in another body^ 
and that nothing can commence existence, unless something 
previously exist which has the power of causing it to exist? 
We think not, — we think if the events of nature never had 
occurred in some kind of order, we never should have heard 
any thing about poaoer, cause, «^ed, &c. We think also, that 
men might then very readily admit, that a being may conri- 
ini lice existence, or might have commenced existence, al- 
though nothing exist prior to such commencement, of course^ 
w. oiit an antecedent. 

Perhaps, reader, you will say, that if the laws of nature 
"were totally different from what they now are, we may well 
suppose that events might occur without being preceded by- 
other events in any way connected with them. Well, if you 
admit this, you accede to the sentiment we are endeavoring 
to maintain ; for before there were any nature or laws ©f fla- 



14 

ti]re,t!icre could not have been any such laws of nafare ^ 
tJiere now are. 

It appears, then, (to tlie writer at least,) that the difficulty 
which one experiences in admitting that a heing might com- 
mence existence without an aiitecedent, is owing to a sort </f 
prejudice which he acquires bv witnessing events as they oc» 
cur, since it has been decreed th^t the same antecedents shall 
be followed by the same corisequents, and decreed also, that 
nothing shall exist except it be caused to exist. The conclu* 
aion IS : It is more rational to suppose that a being should 
commence existence vt fthout an anecedent, than that a being 
exists whic/i never had a beginning. 

The reader will not suppose that we consider what we have 
been saying as any argument against atheism ; for the atheist 
may grant our conclusion, but still tell us, it does not follow 
but that it is just as probable that the universe commenced 
existence without an antecedent, as that a Designer of the 
Universe thus commenced existence. — Our arguments againsi 
atheism, are to be found in the fourth chapter of this work. 

Should any one pretend it is irreverent to say of the Deity, 
that, thon^h he is self-exisung, i. e. not created, caused, op 
preceded, he, in some remote period of duration, commenced 
existence; we should ask, zohy so ? We can see nolhi?!g ob« 
jectFonable in such doctrine. It does not follow that the 
power and goodness of the Deity are diffe rer>t from what they 
are supposed to be, by those who make the ambiguous asser* 
tn)n, that the Deity has existedyVom all eternity. It does not 
follow that the relation between the Deity and the universe 
and the relation between men and their Maker, and betwt en 
«ach other, is not the same as if we suppose the Deity never 
began to be. Nor does it follow that (he Deity will ever 
««abe to be ; uo mortal mau can oiTer any reabou why the i)«^ 



It 



^ plionid ev^f e^n^e to be, on the siippo?ff!on tf»af lie •nte 
began to be, that cannot be given against his ceaseless exists 
%rice, ou the supposiliou that he never commenced existeccei 



CHAPTER IL 

On Matter. 

We define matter, a combination of properties. Tt follows, 
©ccnrding to this detinition of matter, that space^ or what is 
sometimes called empty space is not matter, as was contend- 
ed ft) Des Cartes, for space consists of but one suigle proper^ 
Ij', to wit, extension. 

We know that much has been said about the essence of 
matter. Many philosophers speak of it, ev^n at the present 
^ay, as though it were something distinct from the properties 
©f matter, not something which these properties constitute^ but 
something which is "" the permanent exhibiter" of ihese pro-^ 
perti^s. We are gravely told, that we are irresistibly led te 
ascribe these properties to such essence or permanent subject, 
** by the very constitution of our nature.'^ But the present 
l^riter is rather unfortui.ate, for the constitution of his nature^ 
(if he can divine what this is,) does not lead him to ascribe 
the properties of matter to something besides what they con- 
Stitute ; but the construction of our language compels him t© 
lipeak as though he consid^^red the properties of matter, or the 
Bfiaterial properties, as l)eloiiging to something which they do 
not constitute. He speaks of the properties of matter, and 
of matter possessing properties, just as he speaks of the stu- 
dents of a university, the father of a child, and of a man pos* 
gessing a house ; but he supposes that one combinatioji of 
l^roperii^s eoubiituies Qim kmU vr torm of mdiier^ ani>th«^ 



ii^mbinatlon another kind, snd so on ; — ^he would not be uti- 
derstood to suppose that the properties of matter are proper- 
ties of any thing besides what they constitute. 

We need resort to no long reasoning processes to convince 
one that the essence of matter is a name without a thing ; eve- 
ry man will admit, afier a very little thinking, that f all the 
properties which constitute any body, or if you please, of any 
body, be taken away, nothing will remain. Take from any 
body (he property of extention,of impenetrability, of attrac- 
tion, and every other properly which may he present, and 
what, pray, will remain? — He that asserts that matter itself , 
as some say, or the essence of matter, as others say, is one 
thing, and the properties of matter something else, asserts a 
sheer and inconceivable hypothesis, in support of which he 
can bring nothing at all. 

If, then, combinations ot properties constitute the materia! 
world by which we are suriounded, and of which we are a 
part the question may be asked, ivhat is a property ? A prop- 
i&rty, singly considered, is the most unique thing in nature, 
and does not, of course, admit of being defined. Every body 
must learn what a property is, by experience ; — who can 
define sweet to a man who never could taste? white to a man 
tirho never could see ? and solidity toe man who never could 
feel? 

We cannot say what is the least number of properties, ex- 
isting together ; or, in other words, there may be some forms 
of matter in nature consisting of fewer properties than any 
form we are acquainted with. Extension and impenetrabi lity 
finitfd, would constitute what all men would willingly call 
inatter; but it is pretty certain that these properties are ne- 
V'er united in nature, without other properties being present; 
Sb, again, there may be in existence (as we wiii admit) com* 



17 

binati«ns of properties, f. e. kinds of matter, in which exten- 
sion and impenetrability are not liolh present. 

Who is it that brings together three or four words, and says, 
that when those properties which :hese words signify exist to- 
gether, what they constitute shall be called matter; and when 
one or more of these properties are wanting, what stHI exists 
shall not be called matter ? It is a human being. We are all 
human beings ; and as it is man who has invented the word 
matter to denote substances possessing f^ertain properties, 
why may not men enlarge the meanu,g of the word, so as to 
Gomprehend those substances or existences now called spiri- 
tual, provided it is tit to do so? Do you say ihat those beings 
which are called material, and those which are called spintu- 
al, are essentially ditTerent ? But what do you mean by essen- 
tially different ? To have nothing in common, you answer. 
They have something in common : both classes of substan- 
ces are combinations of properties. — Did the man ever exist 
who believed that spirits consist of only one property ? Spirits 
are generally spoken of as being expended, visible, and move- 
able botiies ; and in olden times they used to have wings, ride 
in chariots, &;c. The moderns know nothitig about spirits ; 
and it is probable they never would have thought of such 
things were it not for what has been handed down from men 
©f ancient times, whose active brains were not dogged by an 
overstock of scientific knowledge. Had the ancients known 
as much as the moderns about the laws and properties of mat- 
ter, — had they been as well acquainted with the nature of the 
atmospheric air, and many other invisible, intangible, and yet 
57za/ena/ bodies ; it is probable they never would have invent- 
ed, !iever would have had any use for, the word spirit ; nor 
ever believed in the existence of any thing which is not ma* 
terial. Nay, we very much doubt if any ancient ever did be- 



15 

lieve in the existence of any thing immaterial, in the sense im 
which the word immaterial is now understood.* 

We know not how recently the word immaterial has been 
invented ; we beheve, however, the word is not to be found 
in the bible. And thanks to close thinkers, if any body 
ever meant anything by it, men have been compelled to ad' 
mit, that whatever is immaterial is unextended / And one 
might have reasonably expected that all who know enough to 
keep out of fire and water, would cease to talk, gravely^ about 
a BEING that is unextended ! — What sort of machinery is it, 
that is in such continual operation as to keep alive the most 
palpable absurdities ? 

Although we have admitted that there may he substances 
in existence that do not possess the two properties of exten- 
sion and impenetrabihty, we are far from believing that there 
are such ; — if there be, we must suppose that they consist of 
more than one property, and are, of course, whatwe should 
call material. Barely to the expression, material spirits^ we 
have no more objections, than to the expression material 
stones y but a? professed searchers after truth, we cannot ad- 
mit the existence of any thing until we have some other evi- 
dence of it, than merely, that a name is provided for it, if it do 
indeed exist. The opinions of men of ancient times concern- 
ing the nature of things, can have but very little weight with 
philosophers of the present day, since such great discoveries 
concerning the laws and properties of matter have, in modern 
times, been made, and so many ancient errors detected. 

The road to truth has been very much obstructed by old 
thingless names, got into use by the ancients ; and it is, at the 



* The Latin spiritns, from spiro * to brei^he,' is the original of 
our spirit, pnd means merely * breath,' which is as truly matter as 
the earth on which we tread. 



id 



present time, no trifling and unimportant U^k, to show what 
words are insignificant, and to determine the precise things 
which other words ought to be used to signify.. 



CHAPTER 111. 

On the Universe^ Power, Cause, Effect, ^c* 

By the word universe, we mean every thing that was crea- 
ted by an Almighty Designer. We do not consider space as 
a real entity or agent ; we do not think it pro|)er to gay tha^ 
space was created. With us, it is unconceivable that an agent 
should exist which never commenced existence ; but with us, 
it is equally inconceivable that space should not have existed 
(if it be proper to speak of the existence of that which is not a 
being.) from eternity. Neither do we consider the Designer of 
the universe as a part of the universe, but as something dis- 
tinct from it : we say that the word universe ought to be used 
to signify every thing that was created, and we say, further- 
more, every thing which was created, is matter. 

Now when any body of matter acts, this body may be call- 
ed the agent of such action ; and the action itself may be call* 
ed an event. If an ultimate atom of matter act, this atom is, 
also, the agent of such action, and the action as truly an event 
as any other, although our senses may be too imperfect to 
perceive either the atom or the action ; or, in other words, to 
perceive either the atom (at rest) or the atom acting ; for the 
action of an agent is nothing other than, nothing distinct from, 
the agent acting, any more than a property of a body is some- 
thing distinct from the body. 

Events do not occur promiscuously ; but it is a universal 
fact, or iam of nature^ that such event as is succeeded by a 



m 

cerfain other event at one time, is at all times succeeded bj 

the same event, circumstances being the same. 

We must now show what we mean by circumstances » The 
word circumstatices, is a convenient word which we often use 
to den(»teall those preceding events which we do not wish t© 
be at the trouble of enumeratnig ; — we need not add, that we 
also use it to denote conditions, for (his is implied, since the 
same cham of antecedent events gives rise to ihe same condi- 
tions. No body is ever in a condition, except it be put in such 
condition ; and this putting any thing in a condition is an 
event ; therefore, if the circumstances be the same, if the pre- 
ceding events be the same, the present conditions will be the 
same. Hence, to say the word circumstances means prece- 
di/tg events, i<s as much as to say it mediUs preceding events and 
present conditions* 

Now the universal fact, or law of nature, that like ante- 
cedents are hivariably succeeded by like consequents, under 
the same circumstances, has given rise to the words Power, 
Cause, and Effect. Men have found that a certain action, 
or change, of the body A, is immediately, and under the same 
circumstances^ invariably succeeded by a certain action of the 
bodv B, but that an action of X, although X be brought in 
contact with B, is not followed by such change or action of 
B. Such exj erience has given rise to the sentiments, (and to 
the language to express them,) that the action of A is the 
cause of the action of B ; that the action of B is the effect of 
such cause ; and that A possesses a something [a power] which 
enables it to produce (hoth bad terms) a change or action of 
B, and which X does not possess. 

0( cause and effect we shall treat more fully presently. As 
to the word po7ver. there can be no harm in using it as above, 
if it be rightly understood, if it give rise to no false notions. 
By iha power of A, to produce a change of B, nothing more 



21 

ought to be meant than the simple (>\ci, thai under certain cir- 
curiHlflnces, a rertaiu change of A is immediate ly ahcl invaria" 
hly succeeded by a ceriaiii change of B. If a mai» suppose 
that the power of any body be something distinct irom, and 
something more than such body, then is lie deceived by lan- 
guage, and led to believe in the existence of a non-enu(y. 

k power of a body, instead of being distuict from, or more 
than such body, is a part of such body, in the same sense that 
a property of a certain kmd ot matter is a part of such nvrUer, 
Take away, or destroy any properly, or power, of any body, 
and it is no longer the same body, logically speaking, in- 
deed, if there be any difference between a power and a prop- 
erty of a body, it must be a very nice and not essentinl one. 
We must make it ourselves, by saying that a body poss^^s^es 
a power, when we find that \t produces certain changes in oth- 
er bodies ; and that a body possesses a properly,, when we fiiid 
that it not only produces changes in other bodies, but suffers 
changes from the action of other bodies. 

But if there be no more real distinction between a power 
and a property, than this, seme may wonder why we should 
say, as above, that, by the power r,f the body A to produce a 
change in the body B, nothing more ought to be meant than 
that, under certain circumstances, a certain change or action 
of A is immediately and invariably succeeded by a certain 
change of B. But this wonder will cease when we consider 
closely the only reason we have, m any case, for saying a bo- 
dy possesses a property. It will be found that the ouJy rea- 
son i?, because the body may produce a change in some otiier 
body, or sufTer a change in itself from ihe action of aonie oth- 
er body. 

Some will see, at once, that this assertion is true ; others 
-will wonder at it, and ask what change in any other body, a 
piece of j^old, iaid away in a box, produces, that leada us t© 



2€ 

say it is extended, yellow, and heavy* But it mast be remem- 
bered, that gold would be to mankind nothing at all, if no piece 
of gold ever acted upon any of the senses of any man ; and, 
certainly, in such case, no man would have any reason to say 
that gold is extended, yellow, and heavy. And as to the par- 
ticular piece of gold laid away in a box, he that knows nolh* 
ing about this piece of gold, cannot say that this piece of gold 
is extended, &;c. But some one has seen and felt this piece 
of gold, — then this piece of gold produced some change in that 
which sees and feels ; and on this account, whoever saw and 
felt the gold, has reason to say it is extended, yellow, &:c. 

We do not say but that trees, stones, kc, would have had 
the same properties that they now have, if no sentient bemg 
had ever existed ; but the only reason we have for saying 
that bodies possess properties, is, because they produce or 
suffer changes. 

Perhaps one thing that serves to make many think there is 
more difference between a pozoer and a property than what 
there really is, is this : v»^e give properties particular names? 
but we do not powers. We say of a muscle, it has the pow- 
er of contracting, and we say it has the property of contract- 
ing : this property we give the nanr.e of contractility^ and 
speak of the property of contractility ; but the power of con* 
tractility is an expression not in use. 

From what has been said, it appears that in metaphysical 
disquisitions, we might very well dispense with the wordpozy- 
€r ; for we cannot give it any more meaning than we give the 
■word properly ; and the reasons we have for saying a body 
possesses a power, are no more than the reasons we have for 
saying it possesses a property. 

A power is neither an agent nor an action, an agent at rest^ 
nor an agent acting ; but merely to express the simple fact, 
that, under certain circumstances, a certain change of A is im- 



as 

mediately and invariably succeeded by a certain change o£ 
D ; in less words than these, we use the wordpotoer, and say 
that A has the power of producing a change in B. But it 
would be as philosophically correct to say A has the property 
ofproducing a change in B. 

It may be asked whi/ a certain change of A is immediately 
and invariably succeeded by a certain change of B, under 
certain circumstances ? To this question, the only and the 
sufficient answer that can be given, is, such is the fact; or 
such is the law of nature ; or such is the will of the Great 
Architect. Th^ two fifst ansv/ers differ only in sound, and 
the last is like either of them, unless it be supposed that the 
Great Architect wills (and of course thinks of) the change of 
B to follow immediately after the change of A, or did will 
these particular changes to occur in this very order, at some 
former period. 

It must be remembered, that in those cases in which it is 
known and admitted that two events occur in immediate con- 
nection, none but boys will attempt to explain why the subse- 
quent event follows the antecedent. To explain the connec- 
tion between any two events, is nothing more nor less than to 
point out intervening events, and the order in which they oc- 
cur; but in case one event immediatdy follow another, there 
are no intervening evtnts to be pointed out, of course, no ex- 
planation to be given. 

To illustrate what we have here said, suppose a man strikes 
a ball, and the ball moves ; now if it be asked wh} his striking 
the ball is. followed by a motion of the ball, no explanation 
can be given, and no answer can be given, except that such is 
the fact, or law of nature. But if the ball move on and knock 
down a pin, and it be asked why his striking the ball is follow- 
ed by the fall of the pin, the answer, the explanation is, be- 
cause the belli moved on and hit the pin. Here you see there 



24 

is an Intervening event (the motion of the ball) to be pointed 
out, Hiid of course some explanation to be gwen. 

But in some instances in which one event succeeds anoth- 
er, it is not easy to determine whether they occur in imme- 
diate connection or not ; hence a man may sometimes at- 
tempt to explain the connection between two events when 
there is no explanation to be given ; a man too who would 
not think of attempting to show why one event follows anoth» 
er. knoicing that they occur in immediate succession. We 
believe, however, it more frequently happens that men think 
that they have arrived at ultimate facts or laws of nature, 
when a further analysis might be made, if they only knew all 
that is to be known. 

When a man has discovered to a certainty what events in- 
tervene between two obvious and well known events, and io 
what order these intervening events occur, he may state what 
he has discovered ; and such statement is an explanation of 
the connection between the two obvious events : it is telling 
zvhy the first obvious event is followed by the second, in one 
sense of the word why. It is also telling what he knozus^ and 
is mere history. Whereas, when a man does not absolute !y 
know what events intervene between two obvious events, but 
knows of facts which render it probable that certain events 
do intervene ; he may state what he supposes these events 
are, and the order in which he supposes they occur ; and this 
statement is an explanation of the connection between the 
two events; but itis hypothetical, or indeed ao hypothesis,— 
an hypothesis supported by facts. But -.fa man suppose the 
existence of events, or agents, when there are no facts but what 
may be as well explained without supposing such events to oc- 
cur, or such agents to exist, as with, — why, his suppposition 
is a groundless hypothesis, or more properly, a whim. 

By general consent, the word phenomenon is now used ia 



such a broad *^ense, that we should not much extend its meau^ 
ing, were we to say a phenomenon 's o y known occurrence 
or event. Using the word in this sense, we should &»> that, 
to explain a phenomenon, is to point out the agent which acts, 
the action of which constitutes the phenomenon, and to point 
out those events which invariably precede it, or are essential 
to its occurrence. — A feeling is a phenomenon or event which 
we know takes place ; it is an action of that which feels ; and 
to explain this phenomenon, is to show what feels, whe- 
ther the nervous system or some agent distinct from it, and 
to show what gives rise to — what events must precede this — 
feeling. All explanalions of {he phenomenon of feeling must 
be hypothetical, for the action [the agent actingi which con- 
stitutes a feeling, is not an object of sense ; we cannot look 
into the animal system and see it feelings as we can look into 
some pieces o( mechanical machinery and see the parts mov- 
ing, and the order in which these parts act one upon another 
or one after the other. However, the supposition (hat the 
nervous system feels, may be so well supported by facts, that 
those who know these facts, can no more doubt, as we think, 
that this supposition is correct, than the astronomer can doubt 
the supposition that the earth turns on its own axis. 

To explain phenomena, then, is to show what agents act, 
and the order in which they act. This is all. When it is 
known that one event immediately succeeds another, it would 
be even more absurd to ask why ? than to ask what hydrogen 
is composed of. 

Now it is evident, that to show correctly the order in which 
the events of any chain or sequence occur, we must point 
out all the events of such chain ; for if we do not point out 
all the links of this chain, we leave out some one or mo-'e 
JinkSj and this brings two links together, which, m nature, do 

4 



not come together. Suppose the events A, B, C, D, to oc- 
cur in the order in which the^e letters, their representatives, 
here stand, and that after D a more obvious and remarkable 
event occurs, which we call a phenomenon, and represent by 
E, — now if you be requested to explain the connection be- 
tween the event E and the event A, or as some might perhaps 
say, to show how the event A gives rise to the event E, or to 
explain the phenomenon E. you have nothing to do but to 
point out the intervening events in the order in which they 
occur. If you do this correctly, you will sa\ the eveci B 
occurs immediately after A, C immediately after B. D after 
C, and then E. But if you do not discover C, you bring B 
and D together, which is not the order m which they occur in 
nature. 

What is a cause, and what an effect ? It is obvious, that in 
any one chain or succession of events, no one event can im-. 
wif'c??rtfe/?/ precedt any more than one of the other events, nor 
succeed any more than one of them. Now that event which 
immediately precedes another event, is the true and philoso 
phical caust of such other event, and such other event is the 
true and philosophical tffeci of such cause. However, in fa- 
miliar discourse we often say that one thing is the cause of 
another, when indeed several events — even known events — 
intervene between the two which we mention, as cause and 
eflect. 

A cause is generally defined to be an event which is imme- 
diately, and under the same circumstances, invariably suc- 
ceeded by a certain other event. This is a very good defini- 
tion of a cause, but we believe it is father redundant ; for 
that event which is immediately follow eo by a certaai other 
event, is always followed by \\\t same event, under the same 
circumstances j of course, immediate antecedents are also in* 



27 

variable antecedents, under the same circumstances, and ma}? 
be uiiderstood as such. 

The term final cause^ is a bad one, as it does noi at firsl ex- 
cite such ideas as intended ; a person who has learnt the mean- 
ing of the word final, and the common meaning of the word 
cause, might look at these two words standing together, and 
fist his brains a fortnight before such ideas would occur as the 
term final cause is intended to excite, or more properly sug- 
gest. A tinal cause is the purpose, end, or design for which 
any thing is formed. 

It is a universal fact or law of nature, that like causes or 
antecedents, as they are sometimes called, are always follow- 
ed by like consequents or effects, circumstances being the 
same. The application of a spark to gunpowder is an event 
whii h is followed by the explosion of the powder, (which is 
another event,) at all times and places ; ]provided the powder 
be good, dry, &;c. which being good, dr), &c.are what come 
under the denomination of circumstances. 

Now it is by experiencing this uniformity in the succession 
of events that we are enabled to predict what will be, by 
knowing what is or has been. If events took place without 
any kind of order, then zo/ia/ would be no sign of what will be ^ 
and we may further add, if events took place thus, the words 
power cause^ and effect would never have been invented. 

To discover the constitution o( any body or agent, is not on- 
ly to discover what material elements it is composed of. but 
to discover its relation with other bodies. ; that is, to discover 
what changes it may produce in other bodies, and what chan- 
ges it may suffer b3 the presence of other bodies. When we 
disco. er these, we discover its powers and susceptibilities, or 
in one word, its properties. Now it appears to us, that the 
anly proper objects of physical inquiry may be expressed in 



28 

these few words, — fo discover tlie constifntion of agents anl 
the order in wh ch they act, one after another. 

What is nature ? Ignorance has given nse to nnany thingless 
names, and these names have so longconsiituted a part ot our 
language, that it is almost impossible to converse without us- 
ing them ; but so long as we use them, we ought to acknow- 
ledge that they mean nothing, or else use them to denote 
something that has, perchance, got a more appropriate name, 
and show distinctly what this something is. We had betier 
give one thing two or three names, than to suppose that two 
or rhree things exist, wh on/> one exists. Js'ature is not the 
God of nature ; but it is a word which means nothing, unless 
it means the same as the word universe. This bemg the on- 
ly intelligible meaning (of course the only meaning, for what- 
ever is unintelligible with us, nea* h nothing with us,) which 
the wora can have, it follows that whatever is natural is'uni- 
\ersal. The nature of opium, that is, the natural qualities of 
opinm, aie universal qualities of opium; ihey are quaijties 
that beioig to — and indeed constitute a part of — opium, when- 
ever and wherever opium is to be found ; therelbie we say 
they are essential to it, and ii\^\\ body which does not pos- 
sess these qualities is not opium. A natural event is an event 
of the universe ; — it is an action of some part er parts of ihe 
universe — entirely so, and independently such j ii is not an 
action of some part of the universe caused, connected with, or 
immediately preceded by an act of Divinity. If it were, it 
would not be a natural event ; for although it be an action of 
a part of nature, it would be caused bj an immediate aci of 
nature's God, and would be what we call a miracle. All 
those productions called artificial, are truly natural ; we on- 
ly use the word artificial to show that they were produced by 
the u.teivei'tion of iiie al operatif>ns of ;hat natural crea- 

ture, man, or some other natural, thinking being. 



29 

" Law of nature." — Does this expression mean anything? 
We wili tell jou, reader, what we think of this expression. It 
is an expression, often convenient, which means nothing more 
than the expression universal fad ^ that is, a fact whicli hods 
universally. It is a fact that, under the same circumstances, 
like antecedents are followed by like consequents. Tiiis fact 
holds true universally -, it is not so at one time or in one place, 
and not in another ; it is so throughout the globe, and as we 
believe, throughout the universe: it is a law of nature. A 
law of nature is nut an entity or being of any kind and to say 
that iavvs) of nature ^orern, is to speak figurativt ly. The im- 
materialiststell us that the laws of mind, or the laws of nature 
which govern the mind, or the operations of the mind, are to- 
tally ditTerent from the laws of matter. But admittmg the 
existence of mind, they can only mean that the mind may act 
without being influenced by impulse, attraction. &c. Let us 
not be bewildered atid led astray by the ambiguous and sense- 
lesi- phrases of the iminaterialists. No doubt some things can 
wiih truth be said concerning the actsojis of the nervous sys- 
teni which cannot with truth be said concerning the actions 
of inorganic bodies. 



CHAPTER IV. 

On Deity., and the Relation cohich subsists between the Creator 
- and the Events of the Universe, 

Our notions are, that the Author of nature is an Almighty, 
intelligent Being, consisting of more than one property, atid 
heiict material ; 'hat hr lias sonu definite place of existence, 
ana no more exists in two places at a time, than any oihci on^ 



3® 

being; that he organized the universe, either out of anrjor- 
phous matter which previously came into being withosit an 
antecedent, or else spoke the word, and a world arose ; the 
matter thereof not previously existing. Jn either case, we 
beheve the Great Architect so organized the universe, thai it 
continues in harmonious operation without any further exer- 
tions on his part, — without his immediate agency. Hence, 
although the Supreme is the first cause of all that we behold, 
he is not, as we maintain, the immediate cause of any natural 
event. But if human eye ever witnessed an unnatural event, 
such event was a miracle, and was immediately preceded or 
caused by an act of the Detty. 

We do not believe the Deity ever intended, or thought of 
every particular event which has and will take place ; for 
this would be to believe that he intended or thought of every 
motion of every grain of saiid, of every motion of every leaf, 
of every thought of every brain, of every action of every in- 
sect ; in short, of every action of every agent which ever ex- 
isted, or ever will exist. 

But we do believe that, at the time he organized the uni- 
verse, he did intend, and of course think of, some of the more 
important events which have and will occur. He intended 
that the heavenly bodies should revolve as they do. and con- 
sequently that there should be cold seasons and warm — seed 
time and harvest ; that animals should propa5<ate their spe- 
cies, — that plants should bring forth seed, each after its own 
kind ; — that all men should die ; — that the nervous system 
should feel and think, &;c. &:c. Nevertheless, we do not be- 
lieve that any event, important or trifling, ever did occur 
which the Deity intended should not occur. 

We believe that in organizinir Ihe universe, the Deify had 
certain important objects in view ; and that he so organized 



3i 

it as to fulfil these objects or designs. And although many 
trifl'no- events o cur, by virtue of this organization, which 
Were not thought of at the tinne, still we do pot believe that 
they occur contrary to <he good pleasure of the Almighty: 
certainly not contrary to his permission ; and we should think 
that an Almighty Being would not permit events to occur 
which displease [make unhappy] him. At any rate, if, in this 
stupendous machine, — the universe, — any events occur which 
displease the Creator, it would be blasphemy for man to talk 
of blame and culpability ; for certainly the fault, if there be 
one, is not in the pot, but the potter. 

I know that mankind have ever been a proud race of ani- 
mals ; and although they daily see other classes of animals 
suffering pain, sickness and death, men got it into their heads, 
thousands of years ago, that the Deity never intended, and 
is displeased at, whatever gives rise to human misery ; or in 
other words, at whatever they call evil. But as events did 
occur which these ancient men called evil, they put their head 
to work to account for the origin of this evil, and the result 
was, a hideous world of fallen angels, devils, and evil spirits, 
all of them enemies of God, warring against him to obtain hu- 
man souls !! 

But I am wandering from my subject ; I did not purpose to 
treat of devils, but to offer my notions relative to the Deity, 
and the relation which subsists between h'm and the events of 
the universe. Some of these notions I have already advan- 
ced, and I now proceed to offer some of my reasonings in fa- 
vor of them. 

1 have expressed the opinion that Nature's God is an Al- 
mighty Designer. He is Almighty, inasmuch as there is none 
superior to him, and he may have just what agents exist, and 
just what events occur, he pleases. B_y wiling il, he may 
create a new world or annihilate an old one, — at least, 1 will 



3£ 

liot deny that he can annihilate matter. But-it is not within 
the hmits of possibilities for any being to cause the same thing 
to exist and not to exist at the same time, or to cause one and 
the same being to be in two separate places at the same time. 

I saj he is a Designer, because there is, to me, incontrover- 
tible evidence of design in the natural productions which I 
behold. When 1 examine the several partsof the hnman sys- 
tem, — as the muscles, the ear, the eye ; and when I consider 
the powers of human beings to move, to sense, to think, and 
to propagate their species, I can but believe that the first man 
and woman were organized by a power who intended 
that they should move, see, feel, think, and propagate their 
species. 

I may indeed be told, that if I discover indications of an in- 
telligent Designer in natural productions, I had as good say 
these productions came by chance, (that is, without cause,) 
as to suppose the existence of a Maker ; for the maker of a 
thing must be superior to the thing made ; and the more pow- 
erful and knowing a being is, the more difficult is it for us to 
udmit, that such being should exist without cause ; and we 
must ultimately arrive at a bemg which does exist without 
cause, let us suppose as many Makers as we please. 

But I would reply: First. The heavenly bodies are but 
parts of one system, — the universe. These parts bear such 
relations to each other, as we have good reason to believe, that 
there would be great irregularity and confusion in the»r move- 
ments if any of *hem should be annihilated or misplaced | 
hence we may say that it is. and was at first, essentially neces- 
sary to the regularity in the movements of these bodies, that 
they all exist at one time as they now do. Now chance is 
nothing, and a nothing in one region of space can't know what 
a nothing in a distant region is about ; hence, to prevent con- 
fusion, and to bring the universe into its present state, ont in- 



33 

dividual nothin«; must have knocked the zohole universe into 
beinji at one blow ! ! If nothing made one pan of the universe 
at one time, and afterwards found out that it did not go well, 
and then made another part, to complete the system, — this 
nothing or chance (I care not which you call it,) must have 
been a very strange nothing; for to ^^jindouV'^ supposes 
thought — a thought implies the existence of something which 
thinks — and a thinking something, but for which the universe 
had not been organized, is the Deity. Second. If things ever 
came by chance, i. e. without cause, and there be no control- 
ler superior to man, things may still come by chance, — why 
not ? If a man and a woman ever came into existence without 
cause, vvhy do not men and women pop into existence with- 
out cause now-adays ? No man can be so big a fool as to believe 
and assert, that some time or othf^r a man decreed that no 
men or women commence existence without cause, and that 
this is the reason why men and women do not thus commence 
existence now-adavs. Man is not the sort for this, — we must 
have something different — something superior. We know 
that man cannot have things exist or not exist, as he may will 
or wish. 

Do you tell me, atheist, that the laws of nature prevent 
men and women from coming into existence without cause, 
nowadays ? Aye, and what are your laws ofriature ? Be they 
any thing more or less than simple facts ? If they be. show 
thorn to me, and I will show you a God. I do not wish to be 
put off by empty talk ; but I will not be particular about 
names. If your laws of nature are beings whirh control 
events, which cause the existence of some things and prevent 
the existence of others, and which organized the tirst beings of 
the human race m such manner that they could see. hear, 
think, walk and propagate their species, you may call them 
by j'our favorite name, but I will call them God. But if they 



34 

he nothing but fact«, ie]] me, if you please, that the simple fact 
that men and women do not come into existence without 
cause now-adajs, is the reason they do not thus come into ex- 
istence, and I may perhaps beheve you, if my brain should 
ever be disordered. 

The third notion which I have advanced, relative to the 
Deity, is, that he is material. In sayitjg this. I oidy mean 
that he possesse.*, or rather consists of, more than one proper- 
ty. It appears to us that a being, an auent, or entity, which 
is unextended, is just no being at all. Think, reader, do but 
thHik,ifyon can, of a being that is of no extent. The smal- 
lest mote that may be seen by the most powerful microscope, 
is more than ten hundred thousand million times as large as 
such a being! Gracious! It is as great a perversion of lan- 
guage to say that a being exists which is unextended, as to 
say that the thing can be and not be, at the same time. 

No man can ever have an idea of a being' which is unex- 
tended. But (his, the immaterialists will tell me, proves no- 
thing. Well, grant it, if they will have it so ; but I will tell 
them in my turn, that their stating that there may be an, un- 
extended being, proves nothing, — only that they are labor- 
ing to support some rotten cap.se. It is contrary to scripture 
to say the De?ty is unextended ; the scriptures no where tell 
us a word about unextended beings ; — there is nothing in them 
that favors modern immaterialism But stop, am 1 not beat- 
ing against the wind ? Have any philosophers ever pretend- 
ed that the Deity is unextended ? I do not know that they 
have expressly ; but it is generally held that the Deity is im- 
material, and modern immaterialists hold that whatever is im- 
material, is unextended. I wish the immaterialists would 
clear up this matter. — If the Deity consist of extension only, 
he is nothing but space ; hence we sny he is material. 

My fourth uoliou is, that the Deity has some deiinite place 



35 

of existence, and no more exists in two places at <he s?ime 
time, that! any other one being. To say the Deity exists in 
two places at the same time, is in reality as much as to say 
there are two Deities, or at least, that the Deity is not oae 
Beino;, but two separate beings. However, when I say a be- 
ing exists in a place, I mean by this place ^ all fhaf room which 
the being, as one continuous body, occupies. I should say 
the atmosphere of this earth exists in one place only, admit- 
ting it to be one continuous body. I should say that a house 
exists in a place, but tf there were two separate bodies in the 
house, I should say that one is one place, and the other in 
another place. But from what I have now said, it does not 
follow but that a part of the Deity may be in Europe, while 
another part is in America; but these parts must be united 
together by intermediate parts, or else they are in reality two 
beings. 

I ay the earth is in one place, and the moon in another ; now 
would it not be polytheism to assert that the Deity exists in 
both these places at the same time? The Deity \s the whole 
DtMty, and if //le Deity exist in the earth, then the whole Dnly 
exists in the eanh ; and if the whole Deity exi.st iii theear'ih, 
and the whole Deity exist in the moon, at the same time, then 
we have two Deities ; — not the same Deity in two places at 
diiferent times, but two Deities in ditferent places at the siime 
time. T se Deity then does not ( x»sl in two places at tlie 
sa.ne time ; but this is not rta_)iiiy: he does noi till all space 5 — 
by the bye, however, if he did fill all space, there would !>e 
no space to fill, for where matter is, space is not : matter ni;\y 
be surrounded b) space, but space and matter cannot be in 
the same place at the same time. Space is the negative of 
matter. 

Now if. to maintain that the Deity is not in two or wore pla- 
ces at the same time^ is not the same a^^ to maintain that no 



pari of him is everj/ where present^ T will no^ proceed io main- 
tairi this last ; that is, to maintain that the Dcitj is not ofsuch 
vast dimensions, that, go where you will, some part of him 
will always be there. 

The doctrine that the De'ty exists every where, not only 
virtually but substantially, is of modern origin. There are 
hundreds of passage.^ in scripture which speak of the Deity 
as a Being of determinate dimensions, to one which speaks 
of him as a Being who fills inmiensity or all space. And ifin 
a few instances the scriptures speak of the Deity as though he 
"Were of unlimited dimensions, (it is impossible to conceive 
any limits to space.) we have no reason to regard these few 
passages as any other than figurative expressions : we have 
DO reason to suppose the writers of them would be understood 
to suf)pose that the D(Mty is so large that if there were less 
space than there is, there would not be room for the Deity to 
exist as he now is. No — they would only be understood to 
jnean that the Deity can behold all his creation ; that, though 
seated on his throne in heaven, he knows full well what is go* 
jng on in everv part of Ids stupendous machine, the universe. 

I know that philosophers of old hr.ve held that "the uni- 
verse is an emanation or extension of the essence of the Crea- 
tor." But what is this "' essence of the Creator V and 
wherein does an emanation of a material world from the es- 
sence of the Creator, dififer from an absolute creation by the 
Creator? Did this essence contain all the matter that now 
exists ? if it did. it was a very gross essence ; if it did not, 
there must have been an absolute creation. But waving the 
further consideration of this matter, I proceed to slate, — the 
created universe is something distinct from the Creator, or it 
is not. If it be, let its dimensions be what they may, it does 
not follow that its creator must be of equal dimensions ; but 
if the universe be nothing distinct from its Creator, then the 



37 

Creator and the thing created, are bnt one thing ; or rather* 
there is no Creator. — Poets have sung : 
" Jupiter is the air ; 
Jupiter is the earth ; 
Jupiter is the heaven : 
All is Jupiter." 

But what is this but a freak of a poet's brain, or downright 
atheism? *' All is Jupiter !" The heavens, the earth, the sun, 
moon and stars, and all that in them or about them is, are Ju- 
piter. I am a part of Jupiter, and you are another part. — 
Let us not be deceived by empty talk ; — when one thing is 
called by several names, let us not so err as to suppose that 
each name has a peculiar thing of its own : Jupiter is some- 
thing distinct from the universe, (as I have defined it,) or else 
Jupiierh a name without a thing. God, the Creator, is some* 
thing distinct from the universe created, or there is no Crea- 
tor jior world created ; but a world by chance. 

It appears, then, that all true ai.d real Deists of ancient 
times, did not hold that the D.-ity exists every where, substan- 
tially as wtll as virtually ; and this doctrine, as I iiave said, 
is of modern origin. 

But the authority of the bible, and the opinions of ancient 
Deists, are not all I have to offer against the absolute omni- 
presence of God. 

The notion is unfounded, ridiculous and degrading. It 
arose from faithlessness in God's omnipotence. Thinkmg it 
impossible for God to sit on his throne m heaven, and kno^ 
what is going on in every part of his machine ; thinking, al- 
so, that God is too powerless an architect to organize the uiTi- 
verse in such a manner that all things may go on in it as har- 
moniously as they do without his looking to it — ,without his 
immediate agency, — somebody, I do not know who, advanced 
tho notiou that God is every where present, upholding and 



38 

fevoTvinsj the heavenly bodies, shooting forth vegetables, caus- 
intJ ai)imals to be. operating upon the human heart, Szc, &c. 

Bit only ttjink wlint an irreverent notion this is. *' God is 
every where present;" that is, God is not only where space 
otherwise would be, but God is in every mess of matter. The 
almosphere is one n^ess or body of matter ; God is in this. 
Ea( h individual stone is another body of matter; God is in 
evwy one of these : — I say God. This is impossible, unless 
there be millions and millions of Gods : I can only mean a 
part of God* And if there be such a devil as is talked of, 



Let us examine the full extent and bearing of eve- 
ry doctrine, entirely unsupported by farts, before we^give it 
credence. 

As to the dimensions of that Being who " created man af- 
ter h's own image," 1 cannot say ; i>ut the God of the Old 
Testament is represented to be very much of the size and 
shape of a man ; and the same we find to be the case with 
his Son, so frequently mentiOiicd in the New. Judgiitg from 
these data, the Author of nature very much resembles the hu- 
man species in «hape ai-d size ! 

My fifth notion is, that God has so organized the universe, 
thnt all parts of it — all agents, go on acting in the same har- 
monious order in which they do, Without any further exerf ions 
on his part ; or if you do not like the word exertions, without 
a?iy further concern or willing ^ and, of course, ihat he is not 
the immediate cause of aiiv natural event though he is the 
j^r.«/ cause of all, — if it be proper to call that a cause which is 
not immediatelij followed by what we call the effect. 

This notion appears to me much more rat onal and di^nify^ 
%ng, if I may so say, than the notion that the Deity is the im- 
mediate cause of natural events. Were we to adopt this last 
notion, several s(ranj^e and irreverent conclusions must neces- 
saiiiy follow. Wc mual coaciude that the Deity cuald not so 



39 

organize the universe as to have it go on as it doe?, indepen'H- 
ently of h'.mself, which would be much the mopt simple a ,d 
direct way of bringing about events ; or we must conciufle, 
contrary lo all our notions of nature's simplicity, that he did 
not choose to; but rather chose to be contmually in exf -t se 
to make water run down hill, to make it thunder, to m t;:e 
the fire snap, to make the brain tlnnk, to make the earth re- 
volve, to make one man kill another, &c. <Sz;c. 

1 have here mentioned events, some of which men w^ouKl 
call important ; some, they would call trifling, and oise, ihey 
would call evil. But I should hope that in these enhghtei.td 
days, no man can be found who will he so irrational as to as- 
scribe natural events to more than one source ; — no man who 
will ascribe some to the laws of nature — some to the imnie- 
diate agency of the Deity, and some to the devil. But I trust 
that every well informed man who questions, what is the 
truth ? and not, what will it be to my interest to maintain ? will 
either say there is no main- spring — no motive principle in na- 
ture — every thing being a dead mstrument, which never 
moves except the Deity lay his hands upon it; or else say- 
that all created things were so made, at tirst, as to act as i\\i y 
do, independent of the Creator. If he say the latter, he will 
meet with no difficulties but what proud man has created. — 
But if he say that God wills ever particular event at the tine 
it occurs, he will meet whth insuperable d fficulties. Not to 
say a word about representing the Deity as a poor Architect, 
and a slave to his own creation, he will be forced to admit, 
(what he cannot believe,) that there are millions and millions 
of Div tie wil!«, orelse that one Divine will, may will millions 
and millions of billions of trillions of particular and distant 
events, at the same identical instant. 

if God were the immediate producer of events, why all this 
nice orgdiiizatioa ia inau and other animals ? could he not, 



4Q 

were He <o attend to it, make an inorganic statue of clay 
thri^k, move, and propagate its species ? Do you tell me it 
was God's good pleasure to bring about his ends by certain 
means ? This is just what 1 say. That men might be contin- 
ually coming in/o existence without His being continually en- 
gaged in making them, He organized a man and a woman in 
such a manner that they could propagate their species. That 
men might think without His continual exertions, He made 
the tirst man with a nervous system ; and now, d'ye see, as 
soon as this nervous system becomes, by any means, impair- 
ed, thinking ceases, or goes on irregularly. But I suppose 
that by an immediate and direct effort of the Deity, thinking 
might go on in a man, if he had a poor nervous system, or evea 
none at all. 

Nted I use anymore words to convince every rational and 
duiattrt^ted man, that God takes no part whatever in the pro- 
duction of natural events? 

But it may be asked, if supernatural events or miracles 
have not, and do still occur, on or about this little globe of 
our*^ ? We replv, that it is fai from us to deny the power of 
the Deity to interrupt the ordinary course of nature, and of 
being himself tlie immediatf antecedent or cause of events 
that would not follow natural antecedents ; neither would we 
deny that men have existed who, being ignorant of the laws 
and properties of natter, witnessed phenomena which they 
could not explain, and which they ascribed to the immfdiate 
agency of the Deity, the devil, or of witches. But I thiiik it 
an important question that must interest every man, and ought 
not to be settled without the most impartial examination of all 
that can be said on both sides of it : — Which is the most ra- 
tional supposition, that a man should live three days in a 
whale's belly, walk uuhuit through a fiery furnace, raise the 



41 



dead, &;c. &c. or that one, two, or half a dozen men should 
tell a lie ? 



CHAPTER V, 

On Action or Change,, 

It will be admitted on all hands, that no event or change, of 
any kind whatever, can take place without action : — not a 
sensation or a thought can occur without an action of that 
which senses and thinks. True, it is difficult for us to con- 
ceive how a few rays of light falling upon the retinae of one's 
eyes, can excite a change in his optic nerves and brain, and, 
as some would add, in his soul or mind ; but we do know, if 
we know any thing, that we see objects, when we are in such 
relations with them that they may reflect light upon our eyes, 
and we cannot otherwise than believe that this seeing is an 
action of that which sees. 

If, then, no change can take place without action, nor any 
action without change, we may consider change and action as 
convertible terms. For sound's sake, we may sometimes use 
the one and sometimes the other. 

Now an action is nothing other than an agent acting, and 
as there are wide differences between agents, as it respects 
size, properties and relations with each other ; and moreover, 
as we believe there are two classes of actions essentially dif- 
ferent from each other,* we shall attempt to give a classitica- 
tion of actions or changes. 

* The reader may be surprised to hear me speak of an esspntial 
difference between actions ; but dnes he not believe that those ac- 
tions which constitute thinking, are essential^ different frnm my 
actions ©t inorganic bodies ? He may admit that they aie, but stil! 

6 



42 

Were we to class actions according to their essentia! differ- 
-ences, we should have two divisions only. One division 
would comprehend all those actions which constitute sensing 
and thinking, or if you please, sensations and thoughts ; and 
we should call them sentient &r c©nscienl actions. This kind 
©factions is invariably confined to the nervous system. 

The other division would comprehend all other ac ions in 
the universe ; and we should call them insentient or incon' 
scient actions, in contradistinction to conscient actions. 

But we proceed to make an arrangement of actions accord- 
ing to the agents which act. Hence our first division is into 
« ■ — — __ — — — ^— — — _— ^^__«___^^,« 

insist on it, that an acfion of any agent whatever, can be nothing 
other than a change of place, or whut is the snnie thing, change of 
relation with some other agent or being ; and that when we say 
t)ne action is essentially different from another, we can mean noth- 
ing more than that the agents which ac are essentially different 
from each other Well, supposing we grant this ; then the ques- 
tion is : Was it the determination ol the Great Architect that ac- 
tions of a material organ should constitnte what we call thinking, 
or ih It actions of some immaterial thing should constitute thinking? 

If we admit the existence of this immaterial thing, we can no 
more conceive that an action of it is -dtiy thing other than a change 
of place or of relation with something else than we can conceive 
that an action (»f some part of the brain is any thing other than a 
change of relation with some other part — (We are here speaking 
of very minute '* parts of the brain.") — Should it be said that this 
immaterial rhtng does not change its place, or it*? relation with any 
p rt of the brain when it thinks ; but that its parts change their re- 
lations with each oth' r ; I should reply, that immaterialists hold 
tiiat this immaterial thing (mind or soul) has no parts ; and 1 should 
say. furthermore, that admitting it to have parts, we can no more 
conceive how a change of relation among these paits should consti- 
tute ihinking, than we can how a change of relati«jn between the 
thing itself, and some part ot the brain, should constitute think ng ; 
or than we can, how an action of a material organ, the brain, should 
constitnte thinking. 

P^^hapsyoa, reader, (whom I take to be an immaterialist ) have 
Still someth;ng more to offer. You may say thai,— admitting there 
is no great impropriety in speaking of an essential difference be-* 
tweeu actions^ if we mean mure particularly that there is an es^m* 



43 

iocomotive or hodily actions and atomic actions* Locomotive 
action appertains to bodies, or perceptible cofnbinatioijs of at- 
oms which move as a whole, or in other words, the atoms of 
matter which compose the body do not change their relations 
with each other, but all move one way — the body itself, moves 
as one thing only. — All the atoms which compose the body 
change their relation with some other separate body, but, as 
I have said, not with each othep. 

The other division comprehends all those actions in which 
the atoms of any body change their relations with each other. 

Of atomic actions we have three orders i^ — the actions of at- 
oms which compose gaseons bodies ; — the actions of atoms 
• «■ ■ < " I ■ ■ I ... .11 1 

tiid diff^^reuce between the agents which act 5 srill there is such a 
wide difference between thinking, and the actions which take place 
out of the skull, that we must suppose there i& a wider difference 
between the agent which thinks, and agents out of the skull, than 
there is between the brain and aa;ents out of the skull ; inferring 
from hence, that there is somv thinkuig^ agent in a man's head be- 
sides the brain. But. sir, you must know that the nervous sys- 
tem, of which the braiia is a part, is very essentially difFerent. from 
any thing to be found out of the animal system ; and moreover, 
that the physiologist cm bring « host of incts which show most con- 
clusivHly, that il is the brain which thinks, whatever may be s id 
to the contrary noiwithstanding. 

Finally, let no man think to argue against materialism, by telling 
me ihat it is inconceivable how an action of the brain should be 
waat we call a thought, notion, or idea, until he can show me horo 
a is that an action of an immaterid thing should be a thought -^ 
Should he attempt to Jo this, he will soon find himself compelled 
losay,-— it was the will of God Almighty that it should be so. — . 
Which is just the same answer that I must give to the question,-— 
How is it that an action of the brain should constitute a thought ? 

The question, What is it that thinks 1 is not to be determined 
by conceivables or inconceivables ; if it were, it would certainly be 
determined at once, that it is the brain which thinks 5 for it is 1 ot 
only as conceivable that actions of the brain should constitute 
thinking, as that actions of an immaterial., unex tended ! thing should 
con^ititute thinking ; but xhe pxisletic^ oi ?his immaterial thing ig 
inconceivable, whereas it requires no ver^/ great stretch of one^ 
i»iihr Xii admit ibait a braia ousts ( 



44 

which compose h'qiiid hodies, and ihe actions of those which 
constitute solid bodies. If we naust distinguish these tijree 
divisions of actions by particular appellations, we can think 
of none but the following bungling ones, viz. Gaseous Atom- 
ic Actions, Liquid Atomic Actions, and Textural Actions. 

The order of textural actions we will divide into three ge- 
nera. The first genus comprehending the atomic actions of 
elastic bodies ; the second, the atomic actions of contractile 
bodies, and the third, the atomic actions of sensible bodies, 
[the nervous organs.] Let us say a few words in this place 
about these different bodies or textures. 

The elastic texture is to be found in the kingdom of inor- 
ganic matter, and in the kingdom of organized beings. The* 
mainspring of a watch is elastic ; every bough in the woods 
is elastic ; a piece of cartilage is elastic. But what is elasti- 
city, or, in other vy^ords, when and why do we say a body is 
elastic ? Answer : When the particles or atoms of matter 
which compos^ any body are forced from their relaiions with 
each other, by kiechamcal force, and stiil retain a tendency — 
a manifest tendency to return to their former relations, the 
body which they compose is said to be elastic, or (for sound's 
sake,) to possess elasticity. 

As to the contracile texture, it is to be found only in or- 
ganized bodies, both vegetable and animal. It is not very 
manifest in ihe vegetable kingdom. We find it in the sensi- 
tive plant, and have good reason to suppose that it exists in 
the circulating vessels of all plants. It is very manifest in 
animals, and constitutes the principal part of those organs 
called muscles. — But what is contractility, or in other words, 
when and why do we say a body is contractile? 

Answer: When the atoms which compose any body ap- 
proarh each other more closely tn any one direction, o the 
apphcation of a stimulus^ we say such body is coatractiie, or 



45 

possesses contractility • and ths approaching of atoms — this 
shortening of the bod} — is called contraction. But wirat is 
a stimulus ? 

When any agent excites [when the application of any agent 
is follozved by^ a contraction of a muscle — not b) mechamcal 
force, but by virtue of the organization of the muscle — such 
agent is called a stimulus. 

Some men call those agents which excite co tscient actions 
of the nervous system, stimuli ; thus they speak of ihe shmu- 
lus of light, the siimulus of sound, &c Butihereis no neces- 
sity for, b)it some impropriety in, using the word in (his double 
sense. Those agents which excite conscient actions may be 
called excitants. 

As to the sensible texture, it is to be found ouly in the ner- 
vous system ; but we would not be understood to say that 
every part oi t\\e nervous system is sensible, nor would we 
say that only conscient aclsons occur in ihe nervous system. 
On the contrary, we believe thai two otht r kuids o( actions 
take place in that system of organs which is called by the com- 
prehensive term, aeivous system. One of these knid of ac- 
tions we call the secretory actions^ and the other, the motive ac- 
tions ; but as it is probable that the secretory action is au ac- 
tion of the contractile texture, and as we caunot speak of the 
motive actions of ihe brain to advantage in this part of the 
work, we did not think it expedient to mention but three gene- 
ra of textural actions. 

But what is sensibility, or in other words, why ;Jo we say 
the nervous sy^fem is sensible? Answer: Because sentient 
actions may be excited in it, by impressions upon the senses. 

Further than this we say not, in this place, as senssbiiity, 
and -entienl or conscient actions, will be fully treated of in 
other u >rts of this work. 

We have now sketched a classification of changes or ac- 



4a 

t'ions, which we know is not perfect; hut sufficiently so, i& 
answer our present designs. 

The question now occurs, — What is the principle hut (ot 
which created agents would not act ? Does the Deity contin- 
uall}? move one great wheel in the universe, which wheel 
moves a second, and this a third, and so on, giving rise to ev^- 
erj action of every agent which acts at all ? Or did the Dei- 
ty, when he created grosser matter, add thereunto a main- 
Sjiring, which is the moving principle of nature ? We believe 
in the mainspring, — and query : What is it ? and did any 
man ever see or feel it ? 

Many a man has both seen and felt it, and called it electri- 
city. But for electricity, we believe that other forms of mat'< 
ter would never move, being otherwise constituted as thejr 
»ow are. 

We shall not attempt to point out the connection between 
eh^ctricity and all the various kinds of actions which are 
ikuovvn to occur. Nor shall we ask why electricity canses 
one body to attract another ; for this, we believe, would be 
to question about an ultimate fact, of which, as of all other 
ultimate facts, there is no explanation to be given. 

W^e may briefly state, however, that were it not for the 
principle of attraction, matter would not unite with matter* 
Animals, of course, would not exist, except they were every 
one organized by the immediate fiat of the Deity ; and then, 
the physiologist has good reason to suppose that they could 
not move without the continual exercise of divine influence 
towards them. And if it can be shown that the actions of an- 
imals are dependent on this active principle, there will be no 
great difliculty in tracing all changes to the same source. 

But 1 have a conjecture relative to electricity which I wiH 
venture to throw out. It is well known that caloric, or the 
matter of UcaV exists in two very different states,— in that of 



47 

i^eedom, when It is capable of prodncinj^ in animpl^ tlie sen- 
sation of heat and of expanding almost all bodies ; and that of 
combination, in which it ceases to be cognizable by our sen- 
ses or by the thermometer. In the former case, it is called 
frte or uncombined caloric ; in the latter, latent^ or combined 
caloric. 

This hee caloric has a tendency to an equilibrium, so that 
liot and cold bodies placed near to each other, even in a vacu- 
um, soon become of the same temperature, as may be prov- 
ed by applying the bulb of the thermometer to each. They 
will each expand, and of course raise, the mercury to the 
same degree. It is known too, that all bodies do not conduct 
caloric with the same facility. Another fact is, that bodies 
may part with i\\e\v free caloric without suffering a^ y altera* 
tion in their properties, temperature excepted; but not so 
with respect to that caloric which is in-imately combined with 
them, and which may be called their natural share. This 
natural share is an essential constituent of such bodies, and 
if it be taken from them, they are no longer tlie same bodies, 
inasmuch as they suffer some change in their physical or 
ehcmical properties. 

Now I conjecture that electricity exists in two states, as 
well as caloric, — in one state it may be said to be free, or ex* 
citable ; it is this free electricity that is collected by an elec- 
tric machine, from surrounding bodies, without producing any 
change in their physical or chemical properties. To be sure, 
as the temperature of a bodv is altered by parting with its 
iree caloric, so by taking free electricity from any body, yoa 
may alter its relation with another body, as it respects remote 
or bodily attraction ; but you do not alter its chemical affini- 
ties nor the cohesive attraction of its constituent atoms. It 
may be said too, of electricity, as of caloric, that all bodies do 
not conduct it with the same facility ; and lurthermore, that 



free electricity, like free caloric, has a tendency to anequili- 
briun-. 

Ill ihe other sUUe \\\ which electricity exists, it is intimate- 
ly coinhined with bodies, of which it is indeed an essential 
part, and cannot betaken from them without a change' of their 
physical or chemical properties ; — they are no longer (he 
same bodies, after parting with this, their inherent electricity. 
Eiechicty existii^g in this slate, may be called latent or^o^ec?. 

Now as latent caloric may be set free, so may electricity 
be set tree, and it is set free by the galvanic battery ; — the 
plates and liquids, or moist substances, which compose the 
battery, suffering some change in their physical or chemical 
properties at the time. I shall maintain also, that it is set 
free by the nervous system, and constitutes the nervous fluid; 
the blood at the same time suffering some change in its phy- 
sical or chemical properties by circulating through the ner- 
vous system. But as it is accumulated and conducted by or- 
ganized bodies, it is not to be wondered at, if it do not appear 
to be in all respects the same kind of fluid that is accumulated 
by the galvanic battery. — We do not believe there are any 
elementar} substances in man or any other animal which do 
not exist in the world around them. 

I will here remark, that 1 am far from being convinced that 
the weight of bodies of all kinds, is the same in proportion to 
the quantity of gross matter which ihey contain, or in other 
Words, in proportion to their density. 

Matter attracts matter, — the earth attracts all bodies to- 
wards it, in a line passing its centre : thererefore we say that 
bodies on or near the surface of the earth, are heavy. But I 
believe that some kinds of matter are more forcibly attracted 
by the earth than others, and hence that the difference in 
weight between a cubic in« h o^ gold and a cubic inch of sieel 
does not depend altogether on the dilierence between the 



49 

quantities of matter which they contain. I believe so, firstj 
b( cause a cubic itjch of steel appears to contain more than 
abodt one third as much matter as a cubic mch of gold — and 
a cubic inch of ice, or of hard, solid wood, appears to contain 
more than one twentieth a? much matter as a cubic in- h of 
gold ; — a cubic inch of cork appears to contain more than one 
eiiihtieth as much matter as a cubic inch of gold. Second i 
We know that the chemical attraction of all kinds of matter is 
not Hie same ; and we suppose that chemical attraction and 
the attraction of gravitation, both depend upon one principle. 
Third : I know of no fact that proves that an ultimate atom 
of gold, or we'll say of platinum, (as a body of this is of great- 
er specific gravity than any other body,) is not heavier than 
an ultimate atom ofs iver, or of any other kind of matter. I 
know of a fact which has been thought to prove that the ulti- 
mate atoms of all kinds of matter are of the same weight, ad- 
mitting them to be of the same size. The fact is this — " Gold 
may, by being dissolved in nitro-muriatic acid, and having 
its solution transferred to ether, be made to remain equally 
suspended in eYery part of this ether, which is the lightest of 
all visible fluids." 

But we know that in a minute particle of matter, there is 
infinitely more surface in proportion to the quantity of matter 
which the particle contains, than in a larger body : we know 
too, that liquids possess some degree of adhesive attraction. 
Some portion of water (and undoubtedly of ether, until it evap- 
orates,) will adhere to the sides of a glass or gold vessel whjch 
stands upright. Now we believe that by virtue of this adhe- 
siveness, ether may buoy up minute particles of gold which 
preseiit a very large surface to be acted upon, in proportion 
to the quantity of matter which th«' pariirles contain; and 
thus we account for this fact, which frees us from the necessi- 



50 



ty of admitting that a piece of gold contains nearly three 
times as much matter as an equally large piece of the finest 
and most compact steel. 



CHAPTER VL 

On Union — Mechanical, Chemical, and OrganicaL 

Matter unites with matter in three different ways — mechan 
ically, chemically, and organically. These three kinds or 
modes of union are essentially different from each other. This 
we infer from the fact, that chemical union gives rise to pro- 
perties which mechanical union does not, and organic union 
gives rise to properties which never arise from mechanical or 
chemical union. But in every case, certain things are neces- 
sary, in order that matter may unite with matter. That mat- 
ter may unite mechanically, the several quantities must be 
brought in contact •, that chemical union may take place, the 
several ingredients must not only be brought together, but 
they must be in dissimilar electric states, and one or more of 
them must, in almost all cases, be either in a gaseous or fluid 
state ; — that matter may unite organically, organized bodies 
must previously exist. — We say, that as tire gives rise to tire, 
where fuel is present, so does organization give rise to organ- 
ization, where food and other necessaries are not wanting. 

It I be asked how the first oiganized beings of each distinct 
species came into existence, 1 answer, — God made them. 

To instance a case in which mechanical union gives rise to 
what we call a mechan ca! property : — take water and gum 
ar^ibic, put tiiem lo-etber, and viscidity will arise, which is a 
mechanical properly that did not before exist, either in the 
water or Uitj inabie aulJ&iaiiCe, ^uuidiabic. — ]^y the chemical 



51 

union of sulphur and the elements of wafer, we have acidity 
and several other chemical properties which did not before 
exist, either in the sulphur, the oxygen, or the hydrogen. — 
The compound arising from this union is considered more 
important than the one arising from the mechanical union of 
water and gum arabic ; hence a particular name is assigned to 
it. It is called sulphuric acid, or oil of vitriol. 

By the organic union of phosphorus, sulphur, lime, soda, 
chlorine,oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, azote, electricity, and sev- 
eral other elements, we have physiological or vital properties 
which did not before exist in either of the separate elements. 

We wish it to be remembered, that we do not suppose fhat 
by union something more exists, but somethtng diffeuenTj 
and hence something new. 

The most important, or at least the best known, physiolog- 
ical properties that result from organic union, are sensibility 
and contractility : the first a property of the nervous system ; 
the last, a property of the muscular system. 

Now the only reason we have in any case for saying a body 
possesses a property, is because it may produce a change in 
some other body, or suffer a change in itself from the action 
of some other body. We do not suppose that sensibility is 
any thing distinct from the nervous system, or any thing su- 
peradded to it, any more than we suppose that acidity is 
something distinct from vinegar or the oil of vitriol ; but we 
say the nervous system is sensible or (meaning nothing more) 
possesses sensibility, because cons cient^ 'dctions may be excited 
in it by impressions upon the senses. 

* One reason, among others, for preferring the word conscient to 
the word sentient, is because the word s»^ntient has been applied to 
actions ot the nerves, — even the nerves of i'eeling, — oi:iv ; — but we 
mean by coascieiii actions, certain actions of the nerves and braiOj 
one or both. 



52 

But what good reapon the immatenalists have to say the 
nervous system possesses sensibility, 1 cannot divine ; for 
their ^' soul" or mind which they talk much, but know noth- 
ing about, might be acted upon by impressions upon the sen- 
ses, if the nervous system possessed no property different 
from a piece of catgut, for aught any one can say to the con- 
trary. They cannot say but that their naked soul, s^uck on 
to the end of a stick of timber, would hear the scratch of a pin 
on the other end, as readily as when an ear, an auditory 
nerve, and a part of a brain, intervene between the soul and 
the timber ; yet no man would say a stick of timber possess- 
es sensibility. According to the immatenalists, it is not the 
nervous system that senses and thinks, but some immaterial 
Ihftig seated in the brain ; — why, then, in the name of reason, 
do they say the nervous system possesses sensibility ? 

f know that immatenalists have made a sentence by putting 
together certain ambiguous words in a certain order, which 
thty call an argument against materialism. Some of them 
say, — It is impossible to cont:eive how mfe//?^t?7ce can arise 
from any union or motion of unintelligent atoms ; — others say, 
it is impossible to conceive how sensibiliiy can arise from any 
motion or union of insensible atoms. 

As to intelligence, I believe that the meaning of the word 
is so far from being generally agreed on, that if five ijundred 
persons were to give each his own definition, no two would 
define it precisely alike, I believe that, as the word is gene- 
rally used, it means nothing at all. or else means the same as 
the word knowledge ; and I believe a man's knowledge is no- 
thing other ihan his sensorial tendencies. Hence a man may 
have knowledge or intelligence when he is asleep; that is, 
when be does not think. Now it is much more conceivable 
that a materia! ory; ui should have tendencies to act certain 
actions, than it is that an unextended or immaterial thing 



ahoiilfl have such tendencies. — The reader will discover what 
we mtsia by sensorial tendencies, in another part of this 
work ; and he will then see ihat the nfiateriaiisl does not 
mauitain that intelligenee arises from any combniation ot uuin- 
tt 11 igent atoms. 

As to sensibility, it is just as conceivable that this physio- 
logical property should arise from the organic union of insen- 
sible atoms, as it is that acidity, or any other chemical pro- 
perty, should arise from the chemical union of materials that 
were not acid prior losuch union. And I may with ail con- 
fidence add, that we have as much evidence, and the same 
kiiid of reason for saying, that the nervous system is sensible, 
as we have for saying that vinegar is sour. 

it is astonishing that any man acquainted with chemistry, 
should be so inconsiderate or so hardy, as to assert, thai it is 
impossible for sensibility to arise from any union of insensible 
atoms. The truth is, false notions got abroad thousands of 
years ago, and gave rise to language which has continued ev- 
er since, and whicii can but serve to perpetuate such notions. 
The expression, " sensibility o/" the nervous sysiem,'- carries 
with it the idea ofsometiiing more than — of something distinct 
from — the nervous system ; and it is exceedingly difficuie to 
admit that something more can arise from any union of mate- 
rial elements. 

As we are now upon the subject of organic union, we may 
renark, that it is less permanent tha;. eithci mech;i < or 
clemical union. Substances mechanically or chemicaiiy uni- 
ted, may remain a great length of iime without undergoing 
any change. Putty is formed by the nsechanical union of oil 
and an earthy substance ; blue vitriol is a chemical union of sul- 
phuric acid with copper: — both these substances may be pre- 
served from cha.ige an indetisute period. But in organized 
bodies, it is generally believed that inteniai changes are con- 



54 

tinually taking place, — -particles of matter being united with, 
and constituting a part of the body at one time, and at anoth- 
er, taken up and carried out of the body : so that a certain 
man of to day, will not be precisely the same man to-morrow, 
as it respects the particles of matter of which he is composed. 
The addition of atoms which enter into the constitution of 
organized bodies, is called nutrition j their removal is effect- 
ed by a process called absorption. When the nutrition ex- 
ceeds the absorption, the body is said to gioio ; when the ab- 
sorption exceeds the nutrition, it is said to pine. 

Furthermore, — the peculiar properties of organized bodies 
or beings, depend on such nice proportions and arrangements 
of material elements, — some of which are invisible — that 
these properties may be annulled by changes in such bodies ; 
•which changes cannot be delected by the senses. Thus the 
nervous system shall be no longer in such a condition that 
conscient actions can be excited in it by impressions upon the 
senses, i. e. it sha!l become insensible ; and yet it shall appear 
like a nervous system that is in a condition to act. The nice 
organization of a muscle, on which its contractility depends, 
may no longer exist, yet it shall look very much like a muscle 
in a condition to act, and shall still be called an organized bo- 
dy ; but there is none of that organization there, which I 
speak of, for the m.ost part, in this work. 

I have said that the nervous system may cease to think and 
fee!, and yet appear like a nervous system that is in a con- 
dition to act. In this point, I may be disputed by the medi- 
cal faculty, and I doubt myself whethej this ever can be, or at 
least ever has been ; — we do not very often see the nervous 
system when it is in a condition to act ; if we did, w^e might 
perhaps find that it looks as much different ^vhen it is dead, 
as the countenance does. 

There is this incontrovertible fact : Xo man ever dies with- 



55 

out previously suffering an important change in some one or 
more of his organs* 

A man does not die because his " soul" flies away from 
him ! The truth is, a man is ahve, as we express it, when his 
organs are in a condition to act, and when they are not, he is 
dead. This is all. A man never dies until his organs suffer 
a change ; if he did, it would be some little shadow of evi- 
dence of the existence of souls. If to die, is to have a soul fly 
off from the body, it is passing strange that in millions of in- 
stances it never once flies off when the body is in health. 

Again : Organized bodies having suffered such a change 
that their physiological properties no longer exist, — they, 
sooner or later, according to their composition and their situ- 
ation as to heat and moisture, undergo other changes which 
are more obvious^ but not so important, as the first changes. 
These more obvious changes, which take place in bodies that 
have by previous changes lost their physiological properties, 
are chemical changes. 

That vegetables and animals, after suffering such a change 
in their organization that their physiological properties no 
longer exist, soon undergo chemical changes, is a fact which 
some have brought forward as evidence of the existence of a 
life, vital spark, or vital principle, — meaning by this life, not a 
condition of a body, but a real independent being. Their 
talk is something as follows : — So long as the life of an animal 
remains in the animal, it controls the lazvs ! of chemical action 5 
but when th^s vital spark flies away from the organized body, 
then the lav/s of chemical action which have heretofore been 
controlled by it, exercise their wonted authority ; and chemi- 
cal changes commence. Now all this talk appears to me like 
so much nonsense — it is worse than absurd, for it is calcula- 
ted to make some men think erroneously.— The truth is sim- 
ply this : an organized body is a combination of material ele- 



5& 

ments, comliincd and arranged in a peculiar manner, and in 
nice proportions. So long as it is duly supplied with food, 
warmth, air, «Sjc. it may continue to be an organized being — 
to be what is called a living and healthy body. But if, from 
any cause whatever, even its own wear and tear, this healthy 
condition be in some degree changed, the properties and ac- 
tions of the organized body are impaired ; if changed in a still 
greater degree, these properties and actions are not only ex- 
tinct, but the body suffers further changes which it would 
not, had it not suffered previous changes. 

Why certain proportions of certain material elements uni- 
ted in a peculiar manner, should not undergo such chemical 
chaf)ge? as they would t^^ere one or more of these materials 
absent, or present in som<^ other proportion ; or as they would 
if some other material should be added to them, — i can as 
well tell, and no better, as 1 can why a little salt added to 
fresh meat should preve.?t the meat from suffering such chem- 
ical changes that it otherwise would. 

1 may remark, that chemical changes do go on in organiz- 
ed beings very frequently, before such beings are said to be 
dead. Now if there be a ''vital spark" in animals which 
" controls the laws of chemical action," (what an ambiguous 
exrression!) why do these chemical chancres ever take place 
before this mighty power quits the body ? The simple fact is : 
thtsvitril spark is nothing more nr less than orgaiiization, and 
is of course something essentially different from what is lo be 
found in the kingdom of inorganic matter. — It would be ab- 
surd to speak of organic ur»ion, and then say it is nothuig es- 
sentially different from chemical or mechanical union. 

It may be well to observe in this place, that the immaterial 
philosophers do not mean the same thing by the word life, 
th:U ihey I'o by the wnrd soul. By the terms sou!, mnid, 
perceptive principle, or immortal spirit, they mean an imma- 



5? 

terial thing which is superadded to the organized bodf, and 
which thinks, feels and moves the hody while it is ahve, flies 
away when the body dies, and senses and thinks, one or bothj 
independent of the body. Whereas, by the terms life, vital 
spark, vital principle, generative principle, or "unknown 
power," (as Magendie calls it,) they do not mean any thinking 
thing ; but an innmaterial thing, but for which organized bo- 
dies would not be generated — would not grow — would not be 
kept in decent order as a tenement for the soul. 

According to these philosophers, a vegetable has a life, and 
an animal a life and a soul. It is to be remembered, they 
hold that the life and the soul are two real entities — two 
agents which may act, may do something ; and which are es- 
sentially diiFerent from any material agent, being even uneX' 
tended. 

Now whoever believes in the existence of souls, is an ini" 
materialist, whether he believe m the existence of lives or 
not ; and whoever believes in the existence of lives, is a vital- 
ist, whether he believe in the existence of souls or not. 

it may be worth our time to inquire why the belief in the 
existence of souls and lives, was ever so very general as it 
formerly has been ; and even as it is at the present time 
among those who are but little acquainted with the anatomy 
and physiology of vegetables and animals. 

We have shown, that as chemical combination is a peculiar 
mode of union which gives rise to properties that do not re- 
sult from any other mode of union so is organization a pecu- 
liar mode of union whsch gives rise to propers ies peculiar to 
itself. Owing to these properties, organized bodies exhibit 
phenomena which inorganic bodes do not. Men witness 
these phenomena, and are led to think that they must bt? re- 
ferred to something which is not to b( found in inorgaiuc 

matter, as in truth they must. And ia ancient timesj when 

8 



i\ien had a mean opinion of matter, chemistry not having 
taught them that by its union, all the peculiar properties of 
compound bodies arise, this something wat> supposed to be 
some immaterial or spiritual agent, which enters organized 
bodies, and dodges out again ; leaving them an inert and /j/*e- 
/c55 mass of matter, destitute of all vital properties. 

This notion, we may easily suppose, would be very gene- 
ral ; for it was not the result of an abstruse speculation of one 
man, but it arose from witnessing phenomena which were 
present to all men. It was an opinion which the book of na- 
ture — an universal hook—seemefi to declare. This notion 
having become general, gave rise to language which has ever 
since served to strengthen and perpetuate it. And when we 
consider that men are too cowardly or too lazy to search into 
the truth of what every body believes — what nature at first 
sight seems to declare — what they have been taught from 
their childhood, by parent, priest and primer— what the 
language of all nations seems to confirm : — when we consider 
also, that the phenomena which first gave rise to the notion, 
are still every where present, and are even brought forward 
as proofs of its correctness — it is not very marvellous that this 
strange notion, not less groundless than those formerly enter- 
tained by witches, should be as prevalent as it ever has been. 

Nevertheless, an opinion is nothing the truer for being gen- 
eral or ancient. The time was when all men thought falsely, 
so far as they thought at all, concerning the movements of the 
heavenly bodies ; — they took things to be as they appear to 
be. And it is one principal object of this work to show that 
all men who did not believe that man is constituted entirely of 
matter, do not believe things to be as they actually are in na- 
ture. 



m 



CHAPTER VII. 

On Vegetables. 

Vegetables are itisensible organized bodies : — they are in- 
sensible, because they have no nervous system. 

Their origin is not fortuitous ; but they arise from seeds, 
roots or shps which are bodies organized by a parent stock. 
By virtue of this organization, they possess certain physiolog- 
ical properties, so that v^hen heat and moisture are present, 
they begin to germinate, and if surrounded by such food as 
thev have an affinity for. they take it up, and by internal ac- 
tions which can never be known to man except by their ef- 
fects, this food becomes assimilated to the embrio plant, which 
being thus enlarged, its plumule shoots up from the surface 
of the soil, giving rise to the trunk and branches ; while the 
rostel shoots deeper into the soil, giving rise to what we call 
the roots. 

Stones are said to grow ; but stones, and all other inorga- 
nic bodies which may be said to grow, grow by juxta-positioa 
of particles ; that is, the particles adhere to the outside ; — 
they do not enter into or pass by any part of the body to 
which they are about to be added. But with organized bo- 
dies it is not so. We presume that in all instances in which 
a particle of matter is united with an organized body, such 
particle first passes h) some other particles which are already 
united with the body, constituting a part of it. 

In what way the vessels of plants circulate their juices, it 
is not fully determined. The supposition, however, that 
these circulating vessels are contractile, best enables us to 
account for all the phenomena connected with the circula- 



60 

tion of their fluids. Still, so far as 1 know, the opinion that 
the sides of the vessels attract the fluids, that extremity of ihe 
vessel towards which the fluid flows, attracting with the great- 
est force, is far from heing proved erroneous. Perhaps the 
fluids are circulated partlj by attraction and partly by con- 
traction. For my own part, i have.no very positive opinion 
about the matter, except I ronfidentl}' believe that the phe- 
nomena of vegetables, as well as of animals, are the effects of 
material causes— that there are no agents or operative beings 
in either but what are material. And I would furthermore 
maintain, that when I ascribe the peculiar properties of veg- 
etables to organization, i give just as much an explanation of 
them, as he does who says they depend on a life or a vital 
principle. And there is this in my favor : we know there is 
such a thing as organization— such a thing as material ele- 
xnejits united organically ; but we have not the least evidence 
of the existence of a life. The hypothesis of life, also, gives 
rise to many difficulties — many unanswerable questions that 
cannot be asked, upon the supposition that vegetables are 
constituted entirely of matter : as we will now proceed to 

show. 

The life of a vegetable being an entity distinct from the 
matter of a vegetable, from whence comes it, and where, and 
only where, does it reside ? Does the life of each little shrub 
and plant come directly from the hand of God ? And if so, 
did he create a life for every particular plant which ever has 
or ever will exist, at the time he " created all thmgs?" or is 
he continually emanating fire-new lives for vegetables as they 
spring up ! Does the life of a vegetable ever exist any where 
but in the vegetable ? He that says it does, ought to be able 
to show some reason for his saying so. If it do not, what be- 
comes of the life of a vegetable which dies-— a vegetable from 



01 

which the " vital spark" flies away ?^^ Does it straightway 
dodge oif'into some oiher vej^etabie ? When a man clears live 
acres of liis wood-iot, do the trees on (he remaining five acres 
take a start all at once, and grow faster, or discover auy oth- 
er signs of having received a new life. 

To say that you destroy the life of a vegetable when you 
destroy its organization, would be saying what a cautious vi- 
talist will not readily admit ; for this would argue ti)at the life 
of a vegetable depends on its organization, instead of its or- 
ganization being caused, modified, aiid maintained by its life; 
which would be taking away the supposed evidences of its 
existence. 

Nevertheless, this is the most rational method the vitalists 
can suggest for getting rid of their lives of organized benjgs 
when they die ; therefore we will grant it — we will grant, 
whatever destroys the organization of a vegetable or an ani- 
mal, destroys its life : — and then say :— 

As there are no lives flying off from plants or animals when 
they die, and as it is ver} diflicult to admit that the God of 
thousands- of worlds «s continually making new lives for the 
numberless plants and animals that are continually springing 
forth; and furthermore, as the lives of trees and men exist 
only in trees and men. (taking this last for granted, until there 
be some evidence to the contrary,) the question arises : from 
whence come the lives of new or young plants and animals, 
but from the seeds from which they spring' But it will not 
answer to admit that a vegetable derives its life from the seed 
from which it springs ; for according to this supposition, we 
are driven to one of two pitiful alternatives : we must either 
admit that an apple seed, six thousand years ago, contained as 

* Whatever i m^.y s-iy relative to the life of ve;^elables, will ap- 
ply with equdi force agumst the life of amiiiulsj man cot excepted. 



m 

much life, or as many lives, as a]I the apple trees and apple 
serds that h^ve ever onginated, either direct))' oi indirectly, 
from this seed ; or else we must admit, that when any seed 
begins (o^rrow, new hfe begins to he generated. But it would 
bo a fata) thing to vitalism to admit that life or lives are gen- 
erated by the propagation or growth of vegetables or animals ; 
for this would be making life to depend on organization, in- 
stead of organization on life. 

Finally, to give the vitalists every possible chance to sup- 
port their doctrine, let us make one more supposition, and 
the most rational of all that can be suggested. Let us sup- 
pose that at the time the Deity '' created all things,'' he crea- 
ted one universal vegetable life, which pervades the air and 
the soil, from which vegetables draw their support, — not a 
distsnct life for every species of vegetables ; for since there 
are thousands of species, this would be multiplying the ma- 
chinery by which nature works her ends, to an unwarrantable 
decree. 

The vitalists, then, cannot do better than to say, that one 
universal principle was created for organized beings, or else 
one for vegetables and one for animals. 

I would now ask, how one and the same vital principle 
shnij cause one seed to become an oak and another a thistle ? 
Oh, say the vitalists, this is owing to the nature of the seeds 
themselves. — Very good. But what do you mean by nature 
of seeds ? The vital principle is out of the question — there is 
but one —it must of course be the same in all seeds : T repeat 
the question, — What do you mean by nature of seeds ? Do 
you not mean their make or constitution ? Do you not mean 
their organization ? I think this question must be answered 
in the affirmative. If so, it follows of course that it is diflfer- 
ence of orgasiization that gives rise to all the differences be- 
tweea vegetables. This being made out, 1 care for nothing 



63 

more ; but those who choose to fire away their powder and 
shot in defence of an insignificant, brain-begotten vital princi- 
ple, which is not capable of effecting any difference betweea 
organized beings, still have the liberty to do so. But I shall 
say that the word hfe, hke the word soul, is a name without a 
thing. 



■00- 



CHAPTER VIII. 

General Remarks concerning Animals, 

An animal is a sensible, organized body.t 

T'hs I consider a correct definition of an animal, and T shall 
adhere to it. But there are some instances in which it is dif- 
ficult to determine whether a being be sensible or not, and of 
course to determine whether it be an animal or not. The 
reasons of thi'? difficulty I will here attempt to show. 

All the higher orders of animals, and perhaps all beings 

•j- Being convinced of the importance of a correct nomenclature 
in the science of physiology, (which, in \X^ broadest sense inchules 
all I understand by metaphysics,) I regret that the word sensible, 
as well as the word sensibility, has been used in different senses It 
has been used in the technical or physiological sense, as i have 
here used it, denoting a cons« ieni being, or a being in which sensa- 
tions may be excited by inipressious upon its organs ; it has also 
been used in a popular sense, as when it is said of one who can dis- 
cern nice relations, and think ot nil that relates to a subject, he is a 
sensihfe raan. And when we say of a person on whom impres- 
sions produce more thnn an ordinary ^^f^ect — a person whose finer 
fee ings or soci d passions are easily excited, he is a person of great 
sensibilily : we do not use the word in its strictest ph^/siological 
sense. 

The reader will find that in this work the words sensible and 
sensibility will sehicu, if ever, be used in any oiliur ihaii their 
technical siguificaiiuns. 



64 

that are truly ?imm^h, possess a nervous system consisting of 
two parts, which, though materially connected, subserve two 
distinct purposes. The one part performs the functions of 
sending and thinking ; it is also instrumental in the production 
o^ voluntary motions ; but the other part has no direct share 
in the production of the conscient phenomena, being wholly 
subservient in the production of involuntary actions, as the 
actions of the circulating vessels and the alimentary canal. 

These actions are vital actions, or in other words, they are 
actions of contractile organs ;* but they do not necessarily 
suppose the existence of feeling or volition ; that is,, they may 
be, and indeed are performed without either. To distinguish 
these two parts of the nervous system from each other, the 
former has been termed ihe nervous system of animal life ^ 
the latter, the 7iervous sysitm oj organic life. It is not to be. 
supposed, however, that these two systems are distinct from 
each other in any other respect than that of the offices whch 
they fulfil. On the contrary, there are many nerves passing 
from the one to the other, and so incorporating them that those 
organs which receive their nerves from the organic system, 
undoubtedly receive along with them a few fibres from the 
animal or feeling system -, and on this account these organs 
may be the seat of pain, when in a morbid state. But these 
few fibres from the animal system of nerves, do not appear to 
be necessary to enable these organs to perform their ordinary 
functions ; for the actions of these organs are not directly nor 
generally controlled by the thoughts or sensations going on in 
the nervous system of animal life ; nor are their actions ordi- 
narily accompanied with any sensation. It appears that this 
connection between the two systems of nerves is designed, not 
for ordinary, but for extraordinary purposes. By virtue of it, 
inflammations and other diseases of the heart, stomach, bow- 
els, liver, &c. cannot go on to a final termination wiihout pro- 



m 

ducing pain ; hence, by warning the individual of his danger, 
it may often be removed. By it, also, a man's passions may 
be expressed in his countenance, in a way which we shall at- 
tempt to point out in the course of this work. 

Now as there is, in the higher orders of animals, such a 
thing as a nervous structure ; such a thing as contraction ; 
and such a thing as important and obvious vital actions zoith- 
out any sensation, thinking, or volition ; so there may be be- 
ings of an inferior order which possess no nervous system of 
animal life, and of course are never the subjects of any con- 
sciousness ; but which may nevertheless possess a nervous 
texture, an organic nervous system, and a power of acting — 
their actions being caused and controlled, not by thoughts, 
not byconscient actions of a brain — but by material stimuli, 
as are the actions of one's heart. Hence we may see or-ganir 
ized automatons, possessing something that appears like a 
nervous texture, and yet not be sure that it is a sensible be- 
ing — not be sure that it is an animal. 

Here then lies one great difficulty in determining, in some 
cases, whether an organized being be an animal or not. Ano- 
ther difficulty arises from the fact that an impression whirh 
may excite a feeling, and a visible, aiid perhaps -voluntary 
motion in one organized being, may excite in another organ- 
ized being a visible motion without exciting any feeling: — 
we cannot see that action which constitutes a feeling ; and if 
you touch a polypus, and the polypus contract, you do not 
know whether the impression which you make, acts directly 
as a stimulus on the contractile fibre, or whether it gives rise 
to the contraction through the medium of a zoill^ as immate- 
rialists would express it. The existence of the contractile 
texture in any being is no proof of the existence of a sensible 
texture in thesan>e being. 

If there be any organized automatous beings, which pos- 
9 



66 

sess any^part supposed to answer the purpose of a nervous 
system of organized life, but which are never the subjects of 
any consciousness, I would neither call them vegetables nor 
aninnals, but zoophiles* 

We desire to avoid any difficulties that might arise from 
not strictly adhering to our own definitions of terms. It mat- 
ters not with us what materials a being is organized out of; 
what its mode of existence may be ; or in what way it may 
propagate its species : if it do not possess the physiological 
property, sensibility^ we say it is not an animal. 

Some writers have laid down sensibility and locomotive 
power as the peculiar characteristics of an animal ; but pre- 
sentl} they find that some beings are able to move, in which 
no traces of a nervous system can be found, and which dis- 
cover no signs of feeling ; others they find, which they call 
plants, but which discover signs of sensibibility. They are 
now very much put lo their stumps, to draw a line of distinc- 
tion between animals and vegetables, But if these men 
wojid only adhere even to their own definition of animal, they 
would find less difficulty than they do. histead of this, they 
define an animal u\ one place, and perhaps in the next line 
tell you that this definition will not hold good, because some 
other thing quite different is also an animal. I will here in- 
sert a passage to the point, from Good's Book of Nature. 

" Yet if we hence lay down consciousness or sensation and 
locomotion as the two characteristics of animal life, we shall 
Boon find our definition untenable, for while the Linnean class 
of worrris affords instarces, in perhaps every one of its orders, 
o{ animals destitute of loconsotion, and evincing no mark of 
consciousr-.ess or sensation, there are various species oi plants 
that are strictly locomotive, and that discover a mueh nearer 
approach to a sensitive faculty." 

In this sentence Dr. Good has done as much as to say, — if 



67 

we call a sensible, self-moving being, an animal, we shall find 
our definition untenable; for there are many animals which 
have no locomotive power, and evince no mark of sensibility, 
as well as some plants which are locomotive and discover 
signs of sensibility. Now this is much the same as ifl should 
define water, by saying it is a tasteless ai'd colourless fluid, 
and then say this definition is untenable, for a sour and reddish 
fluid [vinegar] is water. Surely, if we define an animal a 
sensible, self-moving being, then no being is an animal which 
is not sensible aijd automatous, let it be called a worm, a 
watch, or what you please. 

As to the stuff that animals are made of, it may be stated 
that there is nothing to be found in them but what is to be 
found out of them. We find that they are organized '* out of 
the ground," or " the dust of the ground," as stated in Gene- 
sis, chap. 2, V. 7, 19. 

Animal substances are analyzed, at the present day, in such 
a manner that it seems impossible for any thing to be lost, and 
we find that those animals which are not of the lowest orders, 
are constituted of the following elementary substances : phos- 
phorus, sulphur, carbon, iron, magnesium, calciunn, sodium, 
manganese, potasium, sllicsum, alumium, chlorine, oxygen, 
hjdrogen, axote, caloric, light and electricity. 

There is nothing to be found in man that is not to be found 
in other animals. 

It has been a question with physiologists whether the blood, 
while circulating in a living animal, is a living substance or 
not ; hut this is the same as to inquire whether it be organized 
or not. For m} own part, 1 believe the materials of the 
blood are united organically. 

The process by which organized beings give rise to organ- 
ized bodies, has been considered as very mysterious. But 
when and why is there any propriety in saying any thing is 



ea 

ihysterious ? If we clo not say it is mysterious that one body 
in motion puts another in motion by striking against it, then 
there is no propriety in our saying it is mysterious that any 
one event follows another, in case the event immediately fol- 
low ; and if we expunge from the catalogue of mysteries, all 
cases in which one event immediately follows another, there 
will be no cases in which there is any propriety in talking of 
mystery, but those in which we suppose there are intervening 
events between two obvious events ; which intervening events 
we cannot discover to our satisfaction. Whether, in the pro- 
cess of generation, there be any more events which we are 
tinacquainted with, than there are in the processes of nutri- 
tion, volition, of absorption, no man can say. But if there 
be, they are events brought about by virtue of organization ; 
and instead of racking our brains in conjecturing what they 
are. we say that the first male and female of each species of 
animals were organized by the Deity in such a manner as to 
be able to propagate their species ; and if they were able to 
propagate their species, they were able to give rise to other 
animals like themselves, which, of course, were able to pro- 
pagate their species in their turn, and so on, one generation 
giving rise to another, to the present time. 

We ought not to look upon a germ or embryo as any thing 
distinct frctm the [)arent body with which it is intimately uni- 
ted, but as a part of such parent body. To be sure, it is in 
time to be separated from the body of which it is a part, by a 
natural process instead of an artificial one ; but it is none the 
less a part of the parent body, so long as united with it on this 
account, than the hair on one's head, or one's own heart. A 
part (an ovum) of the female becomes developed, or in other 
words, grows so as to become a foetus, because all the parts 
concerned are excited into action by a peculiar kind of stim- 
tilus y but this is no more vvondtrful than that any other part 



should grow when duly furnished with nutritive matter. And 
I may add — he who says generation is effected by the influence 
or operations of a " nisus formaiivus which vivifies and shapes 
the hitherto shapeless spermatic matter," as Blumenbach has 
said,, no more explains to us the process, than another one 
does, who says the whole process is accomphshed by material 
organs, which, by virtue of their organization, have the pow- 
er of accomphshing it.* \ 

As to the natural or original superiority of man over other 
animals, we may stale in a few words in what it consists : it 
consists in having hands and a better brain, — All the conscient 
phenomena may be divided into two classes, sensing and think- 
ing. To sense, is to have a sensation, that is, to have a con- 
stient action of a nerve and the brain ; to think, is to have a 
conscient action of the brain alone. Judging or reasoning, 
remembering and imagining, are but modes of thinking : m- 
deed we can scarcely call them-^ifferent modes, for as it re» 
spects what goes on m the head, there is no essential differ- 
ence between remembering, judging, imagining, and simply 
thinking. When a man is said to remember, imagine, &;c, 
nothing other occurs in the brain than one thought [one con- 
scient action of the brain] after another ; but because these 
thoughts may occur in different orders, because they may re- 
late to different subjects, and because of other things which I 
cannot here mention to advantage, — the terms remembering, 



* It may be remarked, that, by virtue o/ organization, means 
as much, and no mure, as, by virtue oj those properties or powers 
which, arise from or^anizafion. 

What, tor instance, can be the difference between saying the ner- 
vous .system feels by virtue of its organization, or the nervous sys- 
tem is so orscanized as to be able to feel, or, sensibility arises,from. 
the organic tmion of matter as it occurs in the nervous system^ 
and Oil account of Us fjeifsibidfy, the nervous system may feel ?~^ 
Sound excepted, there is no difference. 



70 

judgins^, imaG:ining, Szc. have got into use. Nevertheless, we 
are not to suppose that any more than one single thought oc- 
curs in a man's head at the same identical instant ; and as to 
double, or compound, or complex thoughts or ideas, there are 
no such things. Now all modes of thinking, if such they n^ay 
be called, evidently go on in all animals, from a man down to 
a mouse, and even several grades lower. But (hey do not go 
on in the same degree o^ efficiency ^ if 1 may use the best poor 
term I can think of, in the lower orders of animals, that they 
do in man — owing to their not having the knowledge, i. e, 
the sensoi'ial tendencies of a man, 

I know it is very fashionable with the w??/eaifAerec? izpccZs^ 
to extol human reason as a divine endowment, peculiar to 
their own species ; but so far from their ever knowing what 
it is, 1 very much doubt if two out of a thousand would define 
it precisely alike. I am sure 1 should give the word reason 
a definition altogether different from the sense in which it ap- 
pears to be generally used. 

We have not enumerated the faculty of communicating 
ideas hy signs, that is, by articulate sounds and marks on pa- 
per, as a natural endowment of man which gives him superi- 
ority over other animals ; for as (he vocal organs of other an- 
imals, and of the deaf and dumb of the human species, appear 
to be as perfect as those of any men, we have good reason to 
suppose that if a man had the brain of a horse in his skull, he 
could no more articulate than a horse ; and if he could not, 
and had also the anterior hoofed extremities of a horse instead 
of arms and hands — why, then, if a// men had always been so 
formed, we should have had no more language than horses 
have. Hence we see that the natural superiority of man does 
not, even in part, consist in the acquired faculty of communi- 
cating ideas. 

I know that some have advanced the very irrational notion; 



7i 

that man first received his language directly from heaven ; 
but its origin can be very satisfactorily accounted tor, without 
such a supposition as this. The hand is what has enabled 
men to bring their language to the present state of perfection. 

Among our remarks relative to animals in general, we may 
state, that the intellectual or conscient functions of the brain, 
are performed in a manner more or less perfect, according to 
its natural make and cc^iiditon. We say, according to its con- 
dition, for the brain of the same individual is not at ail times 
in the same condition or state. It is not in such a state in 
infancy and old age as in middle life ; and like all other parts 
of the body, it is liable to be diseased. 

As to original make, the brains of individuals who belong 
to the same species, widely diflfer. Some men, for instance, 
have a good large plump brain, as indicated by a high fore- 
head, standing well forward, the temples being full and distant. 
A person with such a head, you might take for a natural ge- 
nius without much risk of mistake, if you only knew that the 
internal organization of his brain is good, and is not envel- 
oped by uncommonly thick skull and membranes ; but as 
some brains are, as we may say, phlegmatic, and not ver) ac- 
tive — not easily and readily acquiring strong sensorial leiiden- 
cies by exercise ; and as others may be enveloped in uncom- 
monl}' thick skull and membranes, a large head, even on a 
small body, is not a sure indication of natural superiority as 
to thinking abilities. So on the other hand, a man's head 
may be rather narrow, from temple to temple — his forehead 
maybe low, and soon receding back, and his eyes, instead of 
being sunk, as it were, into his head, may be nearly as nigh 
to }ou as the superciliary ridges of his os frontis which arch 
over them ; s ill such a headed man ma} '' know something;" 
but as a general rule, you may conclude there is no great share 
of original susccptibilily in such a looking head. 



As to the condition of the brain, it is never altered from a 
state of health without a corresponding alteration in its abili- 
ty to think. In infancy it is softer, and in old age it is nnore 
dry and rigid than in middle age ; and at these two periods it 
'performs its functions as imperfectly or feebly as do the oth- 
er organs of the system at these periods. Diseases, injuries, 
and spirituous liquors, disenable it for performing its intellec- 
tual functions at all, or cause it to act very feebly and irregu- 
larly — as we see in cases of asphyxia, apoplexy, hydrocepha- 
lus, ebriety, compressed brain from depression of a part of the 
skull, &:c. The brain (and consequently is functions,) is 
also under the influence of sex and climate, as are the other 
organs of the system. Finally, we may lay down the po- 
sition (which, if disputed, can never be refuted,) that we have 
just the same kind of evidence that sensing and thinking are 
functions of the nervous system, as we have that the secretion 
of bile is a function of the liver, or the secretion of urine a 
function of the kidnies. And there would be just as much 
sense and propriety in my saying the bile is secreted by a bil- 
iary agent distinct from the liver, as (here is in immaterialists 
saying that thinking is performed by a soul, mind, or thinking 
agent distinct from the brain. Nor do immaterialists better 
the matter by acknowledgiiig, as some of them have, that it is 
as much a function of the brain to think, as it is of the liver to 
secrete bile, provided they add — the brain is enabled to per- 
form this function by the superaddition of a " percipient prin- 
ciple." — A distinct agent is a distinct agent, call it by what 
name you please, whether mind, soul, percipient principle, 
or something else. If immaterialists say that the brain is en- 
abled to think by means of a percipient principle superadded, 
I will say the liver is enabled to secrete bile by means of a 
bile- secreting principle superadded, and then ask them how 
(his sounds. 



78 

As I design to establish the principles of materiah'sm, by 
giving a satisfactory explanation of the conscient phenomena 
of man in health and disease, upon these principles — I shall 
not attempt to point out the differences in the size, shape and 
complication of the nervous organs in different species of an- 
imals, showing, as others have already done, that these differ- 
ences are exact criteria of the differences in their thinking 
abilities. 1 will here remark, however, that as the thinking 
abilities of man are superior to those of any other species of 
animals, so is his brain larger, in proportion to the amount of 
nervous elongations that proceed from it, than the brain of any 
other species of animaL 



'00- 



CHAPTER IXe 

On the Nervous System* 

The nervous system consists of several parts between which 
there are obvious marks of distinction ; but we consider them 
as parts of one system, because they are not entirely separa- 
ted by the intervention of any thing that is not of the nervous 
texture. Different parts of the nervous system perform dif- 
ferent functions ; hence the reader will not be surprised to 
hear us speak of the organs of the nervous system. Indeed, 
custom justifies us in speaking of too nervous systems in the 
same animal — a nervous system of animal life, and a nervous 
system of organic life, as an ingenious French physiologist has 
called them. 

The Nervous System of Animal Life consists of the brain 
which fills the skull -, the spinal marrow — or more properly, 
spinal cord—which extends from the biain through the whole 

10 



74 

length of the vertebral column ; and all the nerves which pro» 
ceed from the brain and spinal cord. These nerves are dis- 
tributed more or less plentifully to every part of the body in 
which a sensation may be excited. 

The brain is a pulp;y body of very irregular figure, having 
a number of projections and depressions, corresponding part- 
ly with ihe iriegularities of (he skull, and partly produced by 
convolutions and cavities in the brain itself. Scarcely any 
thing is known with respect to the use of these projections 
and depressions ; therefore we shall not give a particular de- 
scription of them ; nor shall we describe the membranes 
which envelop the brain and dip into its fissures — some of 
them entering and lining what are called ihe cavities of the 
brain. But it is necessary to remark, that what 1 have here 
called the brain, is generally described as consisting of four 
principal divisions, called cerebrum, cerebellum, pons f^arolii, 
and mt'dulla oblongata. 

The ceiebrum completely fills the upper part of the cavity 
of the cranium or skull, being several times larger than the 
other three parts collectively. It is divided into two equal 
parts, called hemispherp.s, which are t^eparated vertically by 
ihefalx, a membrane which dips down from the skull. This 
vertical separation does not extend through the whole depth 
of the cerebrum in its central part, but it divides it complete- 
ly before and behind. The under surface of each hemisphere 
is divided into three lohes^ an anterior, middle, and posterior. 
The cerebrum, and the cerebellum also, consists of two sub- 
stances of different colours and consistence ; one of which is 
for the most part exterior to the other. The exterior sub- 
stance is of a light brown colour, very vascular, more soft 
than the inner, and has a glandular appearance when exam- 
ined by the microscope : it is called the cineritious or cortical 
substance. The lower and central portion of the cerebrum 



75 

is white, and in man is large r in proportion to the cortical 
substance, than in other animals. In the foetus it is less abun- 
dant in proportion to the cortical substance, than in the adult. 
It is called the medullary substance. 

I mention these dsflferent substances of the brain, because 
as, in the same species of animals, hke structures have like 
appearances, and perform hke functions, it may be inferred 
from this fart alone that the cortical and m( dullary portions 
of the brain perform dtfFerent functions ; — and we have good 
reason to suppose that the cortical secretes a subtile fluid, 
but is not sensible while conscient actions take place in the 
medullary portion. Take an animal and slice otf portions of 
the corticrJ part of its brain, and it will exhibit no signs of 
pain, nor will you destroy its ability to thmk and move ; but 
when you get pretty well down into the medullary part, you 
produce pain and contractions of the voluntary muscles, and 

finally destroy the animuPe ability- to tUiiih arxd move, that iSj 

kill it. 

Below the cerebrum and cerebellum, we find \\\q pons va- 
rolii^ which is formi d by processes from the cerebrum and 
cerebellum. From this part the mtdulla oblongata proceeds 
downwards and backwards under the cerebellum. The me- 
dulla oblongata soon reaches a large hole an inch nr two pos- 
terior to the centre of (he base of the skull, called theybm- 
men magnum of the occipital bone. As soon as the medulla 
oblongata passes this forarnen, it enters the spinal canal, and 
takes the name of spinal cord, or spinal marrow.* 

* " The most -triking character of tb^^ humai) brain is the pr<»digi- 
ous d<'vel()[jefuent ot the cerebral h' nnspiieres, tu which no animal, 
wliatever ratio its whole encep'riHlou [the whole conieuts of its 
cranium] may bear to its body, afi'.irtls any parailt^l. 

'* It is also the ntost pert'ecl in the nundier and aevelopement of 
its pjirts ; none being tound in tniy animal which man has not 5 
while stverai oi ihobe iuuiid in mau art either itductd In SiZe, or 



7G^ 

Prom the lower part of the brain proceed nine pairs of 
nerves, most of them from the medulla oblongata, some from 
the cerebrum, but none from the cerebellum. These nerves 
are white cords, consisting mostly of medullary matter ; and 
it is impossible for the anatomist to trace them to one com- 
mon centre or point in the brain ; but there can be no doubt 
but that they all have a connexion with that part of the brain 
which we shall call the sensorium, when we get to the chap- 
ter on sensation. To enumerate these nerves in order, com- 
mencing with the most anterior : — The first pair are the ol- 
factory nerves ; they proceed to the organ of smelling, and are 
distributed to the membrane which lines the nasal cavities, 
called the Schneiderian n'.embrane. Tney are so organized 
that odours, by coming in contact with this membrane, excite 
such conscient action in them, and consequently in the brain, 
as constitutes the sensation called smelling. 



deficient, in various animals. Hence it has been said, that by ta. 
kiiig away or diminishing, or changing proportions, you might 
form, from the human brain, that of any animal ; while, on the 
contrary, there is none from which you could in like manner con- 
struct the brain of a man. 

" It approaches the most nearly the spherical form. That the 
nerves are the smallest in man in proportion to the brain, has been 
already pointed ont ; the brain diminishes, and the nerves increase 
from man downwards, in the scale of animals. In the fetus and 
child the nerves are proportionally larger than in the adult. The 
assertion that the human brain has the largest cerebrum in propor- 
tion to the cerebellum, doei= not seem correct. It has, however, the 
largest crebrum in propertion to the medulla oblongata and spinal 
cord, with the single and indeed singular exception of the dolphin. 

** In the animals mentioned below, the weight of the cerebuUum is 
to that of the cerebrum as follows : — 



jVlan, 


1—9 


JDog, 


1—8 


fiorse, 


1—7 


Hare, 


1—6 



Mole, 1—4 1-5 

Baboon, 1 — 7 

Sheep, 1 — 5 

Mouse, 1 — 2 



Cow, 1—9 

Wild Boar, 1—7 

Beaver, 1 — 3 

Rat, 1 -3 1-2 



Lawrence's Lectures on Zoology , 6fC. 



77 

Behind the olfactory nerves are the optic. These are the 
nerves of vision. They pass through holes in the back part 
of the sockets of the eyes, and through the thick strong coat 
of the eye ball. Here they expand each into a semi-transpa- 
rent, pulpy nnembrane, called retina. Rays of light passing 
through the anterior transparent coat, and through the hu- 
mors of the eye-ball, fall upon the retina and excite that con- 
scient action in the optic nerves and brain which constitutes 
seeing. 

The optic nerves in passing from their origin to the eyes, 
run towards each other, and either cross each other so that 
the one which arises from the right side of the brain, goes to 
the left eye, and vice versa ; or else having united with each 
other without any interchange of fibres, they again recede, 
each nerve forming in its course to the eye an obtuse angle. 
Anatomists are not agreed as to the nature of this union ; but 
there are pathological facts which favor the opinion that they 
cross each other. — In many instances in which the vision of 
one eye has been destroyed by some disease or injuiy of the 
brain, or of an optic nerve before its union with its fellow, 
such disease or ii'jury has been found by dissection to be on 
the side opposite the affected eye. 

The third pair of nerves are distributed to the muscles 
which are attached to the eye-ball, and roll it upwards and 
downwards, inwards and outwards. 

The, fourth pair of nerves are so small that they appear like 
sewing thread. They are exclusively appropriated to a small 
muscle of the eye. 

'Ihejifth pair of nerves are the largest nerves that arise 
from the brain ; they have a very extensive distribution 
about the scalp, face and mouth — going to muscles, mem- 
branes, glands, skill, &c. It is important to mention that the 
immediate organ ot taste is a branch ot the filth pair of nerves. 



78 

This branch, which is distributed to the tongue, is called the 
lingual or gustatory nerve. An anatomist of Rome, Colum= 
bus I think his name was, once had an opportunity to dissect 
a man who never had any power of tasting — all foods and 
drinks exciting no other sensation in his mouth than that of 
feeling. The gustatory nerve was found wanting. 

We here see, in the case of the fifth pair of nerves, that 
branches of one and the same nerve are the immediate organs 
of two different kinds of sensations, tasting and feeling, 
Hence we have reason to suppose, that it is diiference in the 
organization of the organic extremities of nerves, that enables 
one nerve to be excited by one class of agents, and another 
only by agents altogether ditferent. 

The sixth pair of nerves are small, and pass to certain mus- 
cles of the eye ; but before they reach the eye they send ofTa 
small twig, which, being joined b} another small twig from a 
branch of the fifth pair, passes out of the skull through the ca- 
nal which admits the carotid artery, and unites with the up- 
per extremity of the upper cervical ganglion, which ganglion 
is a nervous body belonging to the nervous system of organic 
life. 

We may consider the upper end of this ganglion as one ex- 
tremity of the organic nervous system, and these twigs from 
the fifth and sixth pairs constitute one of the several commu- 
nications between i\\e animal and organic systems. 

The seventh pair of nerves comprises two distinct cords on 
each side, which have very different destinations ; and liave, 
therefore, been considered, by several anatomists as different 
nerves. One of these nerves is appropriated to the interior 
of the ear, and is the proper auditory nerve. The other is 
principally spent upon the face, and has been called theya- 
cial ; I hey are, however, more frequently called the seventh 
pair J owing, 1 suppose, to their passing from the brain nearly 



in contact, and their nnaking their exit from ihe cavity of the 
cranium, through one foramen. But there is a ^reat dilFer- 
ence in their texture ; hence one is called the portio dura, or 
hard portion, and the other ;9or/zo mollis, or soft portion. It 
is the portio mollis that is the essential organ of hearing. It 
terminates in a pulpy expansion on the internal surface of cer- 
tain sacs and canals, which constitute parts of what is called 
the internal ear. 

To give a particular description of the apparatus of hear- 
ing, would be to enter into one of the most diiiicult parts of 
anatomy. We might say a great deal, and then not be un- 
derstood but by those already acquainted with this apparatus. 
But it is necessary that we define the names of certain agents 
and actions concerned in the production of hearing. 

A sound is a vibratory motion impressed on the particles of 
bodies by percussion, or any other cause. When the parti- 
cles of any body have thus been put in action, they communi- 
cate it to the elastic bodies which surround them ; these act 
in the same manner, and thus the vibratory motion is commu- 
nicated, oftentimes, to a great distance. Elastic bodies alone, 
generally speaking, are capable of suffering that vibratory mo- 
tion of their particles which constitutes sound. If these vi- 
brations are not equal to thirty in a second, they will not give 
rise to that action in the auditory nerves and brain which con- 
stitutes hearing, or in other words, they do not constitute 
sound, according to our dull organs. Some have used the 
word sound, not only to denote the cause of hearing, but the 
sensation itself; but this use of the word is improper, and has 
given rise to disputes about such questions as this : when a 
tree falls in the wilderness, is there any sounJ if there be no 
animal within miles of the tree? 

Now the use of the external ear, or what is commonly cal- 
led the ear, is to collect the sonorous vibrations of the air, and 



so 

direct them into the meatus audit orius externus^ which is a ca^ 
ual leading to the memhrana tympani, which is a tense, thin, 
circular membrane, stretched across the inner extremity of 
the external meatus, forming a complete partition between 
this canal and the tympanum, which is acavit} that constitutes 
what anatomists call the middle ear. Across this cavity is 
extended a chain of very small bones, one end of which chain 
is attached to (he centre of the membrana tympani, the other 
end to the membrane which closes the foramen ovale. Pass 
this membrane, and you are in the vestibulum, which is a cen- 
tral cavity or point, where all the other cavities of the internal 
ear communicate. These cavities are lined with a pulpy ex- 
pansion of the auditory nerve, and are filled with a limpid flu- 
id, called the fluid ot Cotunnus. 

Now when vibrations of elastic bodies, such as the air and 
liquids, make impressions upon the membrana tympani, an ac- 
tion is communicated to the chain of bones, as well as to the 
air in the tympanum ; (for the tympanum receives airthrough 
a tube reaching from the back part of the mouth ;) this chaia 
of bones transfers the action to the membrane that closes the 
foramen ovale, and this again to the fluid of Cotunnus, and this 
to the auditory nerve, and this again to the brain; and thus is 
that action excited which constitutes the sensation called 
hearing. 

The eighth pair of nerves is often called the par vagum, on 
account of its very extensive distribution. This nerve sends 
branches to the muscles which constitute, in part, the organs 
of respiration and voice ; it also sends important branches to 
the nervous system of organic life — branches which assist 
nerves of this system in forming net-works or plexuses, as they 
are called ; which are nervous cords uniting with each other 
in all directions, leaving little spaces or meshes between. 
From the plexuses, which branches of the eight pair of nerves 



8! 

assist in forming, nerves proceed to the lungs, heart, and stem* 
ach. On this account the powers of these organs to perfornn 
thfeir functions may be impaired or even destroyed by tying 
or dividing the eighth pair of nerves in the neck; and it is 
partly on this account, too, that these organs, particularly the 
heart and stomach, may be influenced as they are by the pas- 
sions. 

When we say that the power of the heart, lungs and stonx* 
ach, may be destroyed by dividing the eighth pair of nerves, 
it must not be supposed that this division destroys these pow- 
ers directly and immediately ; but it must be remembered, 
that the powers of the heart, lungs, stomach, and also of the 
muscles of respiration, and even of the voice, have such de- 
pendences on each other, that when one power is impaired, 
another suffers on this account, and then another, and so on, 
until you get round to the first impaired organ, each imper- 
fection mutually increasing each. — Surely, to divide the 
eighth part of nerves can have no direct influence on the mus- 
cles of the lower extremities ; yet if this division occasion 
death, we must admit that it has a very great influence on 
these muscles in the end. No important organ in the animal 
system can be impaired, without having more or less influ- 
ence, direct or indirect, on all the others. However, we do 
suppose that the division of the eighth pair of nerves has a di- 
rect influence on the heart, lungs, stomach, and many of the 
muscles of respiration and voice ; but yet, if the functions of 
these organs were independent of each other, this influence is 
not such as to destroy life, or even to destroy the functionSj 
or more properly, the powers of owe of the^e organs. 

The ninth pair of nerves is chiefly distributed to the mus- 
cles about the neck and mouth. 

Thirty pairs of nerves, proceeding from the spinal cord, and 

of course belonging to the nervous system of aaimal life, are 

il 



82 

fiot yel' noticed. To give a particular clescription of the sev- 
eral plexuses formed by these nerves ; to point out the par- 
tic'ilar parts to which they are distributed ; or even to name 
all these nerves, is not necessary on the present occasion. 

We must state,' however, that they send several twigs to 
the nervous system of organic life, and, putting aside those 
parts which receive nerves directly from the brain, these spi- 
nal nerves go to all parts of the body endowed zuiih feeling or 
voluntary motion;^ but they do not go directly nor plentifully 
to all organs which possess any degree of sensibility or con- 
tractile power, as we shall see when we come to treat of the 
nervous system of organic life. 

Among the parts entirely destitute of sensibility, we may 
reckon the bones, cartilages, and tendons, to mention no oth- 
er. These parts are destitute of nerves ; and it is on this ac- 
count that no conscient action— no feeling — can be excited in 
them ; you may pinch, pull, cut, or burn them, without pro- 
ducing pain or any other sensation, if you do it without ma- 
king any impression on the neighboring parts which are sen- 
sible. It has been said that when these parts are inflamed 
they are painful ; but some, if not all, of the most learned mo- 
dern physiologists, consider this opinion erroneous. The 
truth is, (as they believe,) when these parts are diseased, they 
irritate the nerves of ihe surrounding parts, and thus give rise 
to the pain. Should any fact ever prove that these parts, 
when iriflamed, are the actual seats of sensations, then it would 
prove that they receive nerves, either by way of the coats of 
the nutritive vessels which enter them, or else nerves so very 

* I trust the reader is already aware of the imprecision of the 
above expression in italics ; but such is our present language that I 
must use it, to avoid much circumlocution. A feeling and a volun- 
tary motion are both aciions ; and it is bad enough to be under the 
necessity of saying a part is endowed with power ; but it is worse 
Still, to say ol a part, it is endowed with an action* 



8B 

small, and of colour so like that of the parts themselves, as 
not to be discovered by our seiises ; and we should be under 
the necessity of admitting that inflammation of these parts may 
so affect their nerves, that conscient actions may be excited 
in them. 

Some circumstances connected with the anatomy of the 
brain yet remain to be noticed ; one is, the great quantity of 
blood transmitted to it by the arteries. Haller concluded 
that one fifih ot the blood of the whole system went to the 
head, although the weight of the human brain is not more than 
one-fortieth of that of the whole body ; but admitting the 
brain to receive only one-tenth of the blood, this will be a ve- 
ry great over-proportion. The great quantity of blood re- 
ceived by the brain is one evidence that this organ performs 
very iniportant functions ; and as those organs which secrete 
fluids, and which are called glands, receive large proportions 
of blood, we have additional reason for supposing that one 
function of that complicated organ, the brain, is to secrete a 
nervous fluid — we believe, as we have said, that it is the cin- 
eritious part of the brain which secretes this fluid. 

Another circumstance is, that the brain has no lymphatic 
absorbent vessels, at least, no such vessels can be discovered, 
even with the aid of a microscope •, and considering the size 
of the brain, and the great quantity of blood which it receives, 
we should expect iis absorbents, if it had any, would be pret- 
ty large. But as this fact has some relation with the pheno- 
mena of remembering, we shall advert to it in another place. 

As to the chemical and physical properties of the nervous 
matter, they are obviously peculiar to itself, unlike what we 
meet with in any other of the constituents of the body ; but 
wherever il is to be found, it exhibits nearly the same proper- 
ties. It is generally agreed that the medullary part of the 
braiu is fibrous, and that these fibres are placed in such a di^ 



rection as to converge towards the base of the brain. It aj^- 
pears from the microscopical observations of several physiol- 
ogists, that these fibres are chainfe of globules, connected to- 
gether by a peculiar glutinous substance. 

A fibrous structure is discovered in the spinal cord, though 
less distinct than in the brain. The fibrous structure of the 
nerves of animal life is very obvious ; but the ultimate ner- 
vous filament is not supposed to be a chain of globules, like 
that of the brain, but a cylindrical canal, containing a viscid 
pulpy matter. With respect to the nerves of organic life, and 
the branches of the eighth pair from the head, (which branch- 
es, after assisting in forming a plexus, go to involuntary mus- 
cles without entering a ganglion,) the disposition of their fibres 
differs from that of the other nerves. These fibres, instead 
of being straight and parallel, are irregularly connected with 
each other and twisted together. 

As to the use of the nervous system of animal life, it is 
not our intention to say much in this place. But it may be 
well to just glance at some of the effects which arise from 
certain experiments, diseases and injuries. 

By dividing or compressing, as by a ligature, the nerves 
going to any part or organ, you destroy the power of such or- 
gan to sense. Tie the olfactory, optic, auditory and gustato- 
rv nerves, and you disenable the animal to smell, see, hear, 
and taste. Tie all the other nerves from the brain and spinal 
coid, or instead of tying these last, tie the cord as soon as it 
issues from the foramen magnum, and you destroy, as we may 
say, the sensibility of every part of the body ; and not only 
so, hut you completely disenable the animal to move. — If the 
animal might still think, not a muscle could he contract ; of 
course, not a member could he move, though he zmll to 
move them ever so greatly. 

Were it possible for an infant to be born and to grow to the 



8d 

size of an adult, with a ligature, or something to the same ef- 
fect, around every nervous elongation that proceeds from the 
brain, such being would never be the subject of any sensation, 
thought, or ennotion — in a word, would never be the subject 
of any naore consciousness than a block of marble ; and, let 
his muscles be ever so good, he would no more possess the 
power of locomotion than any other body you can mention. 

This is no speculation — it is plain matter of fact, as every 
physiologist well knows ;— he is as certani of it as the astron- 
omer is that the earth turns on its own axis. 

If, by any means, the lower and central part of the brain be 
compressed, all consciousness ceases unul such pressure be 
removed. If the spinal cord be compressed in its course, all 
parts receiving nerves that issue from below this spot, can no 
longer feel nor be moved by the will. 

We have said that a great proportion of the upper part of 
the bram may be removed witl;out immediately atlecting the 
animal's ability to think and move ; but it is not so with the 
lower and medullary part. And the lower down you get, the 
more mischief to these powers do you do; but yet it is pro- 
per to mention that this lower part of the brain will suffer ve- 
ry gradual changes, in what may be called its mechanical or 
physical organization, without affecting its functions so much 
as the effects of sudden changes would lead us to expect. 

The fact is, whatever operates suddenly on organized bo- 
dies, affects their nice internal, physiological organization 
more, in proportion to the effecls produced on its ph} sical or 
mechanical structure, than causes which operate gradually — - 
giving the organ, as we may say, some chance to accommo- 
date itself to the change. Now it is this nzce, internal^ physio- 
/ogzca/ organization, that is the waj hje, soitl^ diiid pod^er o£ 
organized bodies. — It matters htlie wiiut shape or condition 



86; 

you may force an organized body into, provided you do not 
injure its internal organization. 

The Nervous System ofOrganic Life consists of two chains 
of ganglions situated within the body, one on each side of the 
spinal column ; and of the infinite number of small nerves 
which proceed from these ganglions. 

The ganglions are little reddish or greyish bodies, of a tex- 
ture which has nothing in common with that of the cerebral 
substance, being rather spungy than pulpy. These bodies, 
as well as the nerves which issue from them, possess but a ve- 
ry low degree of sensibility. Bichat has shown that they may 
be powerfully irritated in a living animal without the animal 
exhibiting signs of suifering ; but if you irritate a nerve from 
the brain or spinal cord, the animal instantly cries out and 
struggles. I think it more than probable that what little de- 
gree of sensibility the organic system possesses, is owing to 
the many twigs which it receives from the animal system. 

It must be remembered that the nerves of any organ are 
what enable the organ to sense,* and although it is a common 
way of speaking, to say of such organ, it is sensible, still it is 
sensible inasmuch as it possesses sensible nerves ; and it is no 
more sensible than the nerves which it possesses. Hence the 
lungs, heart, stomach, liver, spleen, bowels, in short, all those 
organs which receive the principal part of their nerves from 
the organic system, possess but a low degree of sensibility, es- 
pecially in a healthy state. We do not feel the blood pour 
into the heart ; we do not feel the contents of the bowels 
moving downwards ; we do not feel any of the healthy actions 

* To feel, is to hai^e only one of the five kinds of sensations, but 
i9 sense, is to have any senisation : hence, in some cases, the latter 
term is far preferable to the former. — We say there are five species 
of seusalions. 



87 

«f those organs contained in the two grieat cavities of the bo- 
dy — the thorax^ which is above the diaphragm or midrifT, and 
the abdomen^ which is below the diaphragm. 

The ganghons strung along on each side of the spine, from 
the upper part of the neck to the lower part of the pelvis, are 
united with each other directly by a nervous cord that pro- 
ceeds straight along, from one ganglion to another. P^ach 
ganglion gives off several nerves, and these nerves, proceed- 
ing from the ganglions on each side of the spine, form several 
important plexuses ; and from these plexuses proceed nerves 
to the thoracic and abdominal viscera. And although seve- 
ral of the viscera, as the heart, stomach and bowels, are mus- 
cular organs, they cannot be excited into action or stopped, 
by any thinking going on in the head, or, to use the more 
convenient, but less correct language of the schools, these 
muscular organs are not under the control of the will ; hence 
they are called involuntary muscles. 

The ganglions, like the brain, are supplied with a large 
proportion of blood, and I believe their office is, not to unite 
nervous fluids commg from different quarters of the nervous 
system of animal life — a thing which might as well be effect- 
ed by a plexus — but to secrete a nerVous fluid. Concerning 
this matter we shall say more, when we come to treat of the 
relation between the nervous and muscular systems. 



CHAPTER X. 

On the Muscular Si/stem, 

We have already said that the contractile texture is the 
most important texture in those organs called muscles or 
muscular ; we have also shown that we mean by contractile 
texture, a texture that may be excited to contract by a stim- 
ulus. '^ We think it proper to call every organ in the animal 
system, which possesses the contractile texture, a muscular 
organ, whether custom approve of our doing so or not. — 
Hence, to determine whether an organ be muscular or not, 
we do not pick it to pieces, and squint at it with our poor 
eyes, to see ifwe can discover good large red fibres ; but we 
query whether or no it contract on the application of a stim- 
ulus. Should the organ be so minute, so situated, or its con- 
tractions so trifling, that we cannot discover its contrac- 
tions with our senses, we consult reason. — Should there be 
several facts which may better be accounted for by supposing 
such organ to contract, than in any other way ; and if there 
be no one fact to prove that such organ does 7iot contract, 
we conclude that it contracts, and of course, call it a muscu- 
lar organ. 

In man, and in all the higher orders of animals, there are 
two muscular systems, differing essentially from each other in 
form, in texture, in the nature of the stimuli by which they 
are excited into action, and in the functions which they per- 
form. 

The muscles of one system are under the control of the 
will, and are called voluntary muscles, or musclts of animal 

tm III II I I » I II . ■ 11 I I »■ I II I 

* See pages 44 — 45. 



89 

life^ and we may sometimes call them the solid muscles. The 
muscles of the other system are not under the control of the 
will, and are called involuntary, hollow, or organic muscles. 

The Voluntarij Muscles^ by their contractions, give rise to 
all those actions which a man may perform or not perform, as 
he chooses. They are not immediately concerned in the cir- 
culation of any matter, either fluid, pultaceous, nutritive, or 
excrementitious ; hence they are not immediately concerned 
in the growth and nutrition of the body : they are immediate- 
ly concerned in procuring the materials for this nutrition ; 
but the muscles of organic life work upon these materials and 
distribute them to every part of the body. As it is by the 
aid of the system of voluntary muscles that we act upon sur- 
rounding bodies, and even express our thoughts and sensations 
to our fellow beings, or in other words, as it is by this systena 
of muscles that we maintain a relation with the world around, 
it may with propriety be called the 'muscular system of r da- 
lion, — an appellation already given it by the French physiol- 
ogists. 

This system of muscles, including its vessels, (which in- 
deed are little muscular organs of the organic system,) is of 
more considerable size than any other system of organs in the 
animal economy. Besides the numerous regions that these 
muscles fill, they are generally spread out under the skin, and 
protect, like it, the adjacent parts, and like it, can bear the 
action of external bodies without the fatal consequences that 
would arise from a lesion of the deeper seated organs which 
they defend. 

From the external form of these muscles, they may be di- 
vided into long, broad and short. The long ones occupy in 
general the limbs ; they are situated in a sort of fibrous gut- 
ter which retains them powerfully, so that when they contract, 

they do not displace themselves as they otherwise would. 

12 



90 

They are in general much thicker in their middle than at 
their extremities ; this arises from the abundance of fleshy fi- 
bres at this part, which fleshy fibres are the proper muscular 
or contractile fibres. As you proceed towards the ends of 
these muscles, the contractile fibres become less numerous, 
until, in many instances, they wholly disappear ; and what 
ekes out the muscle and attaches it to the bone, is a strong, 
compact, white cord, which is of a nature altogether different 
from the middle or belly of the muscle. 

This cord is destitute of sensibility and contractility, two 
important physiological properties, both of which are possess- 
ed by the belly of the muscle. — It takes no active part in the 
production of motion, and when separately considered, we 
call it 2t. tendon^ and should never think of calling it a part of 
a muscle, were it not for the inconvenience that would arise 
in describing the muscles, if we did not consider them as in- 
cluding this part. 

In some instances the tendon of a muscle is longer than the 
fleshy or contractile part. 

The long muscles almost always have both of their ends 
attached to bones ; and in all such instances, they pass by an 
articulation — £an articulation is ihe union of one bone with 
another] — an articulation, too, which admits of a motion be- 
tween the bones articulated. This is what we should expect, 
knowing that the use of these muscles is, by their contraction, 
to move one bone upon another, and thus to produce ihe mo- 
tions of the body. Now when a muscle contracts, it does 
not move both bones to which it is attached, but it moves 
one bone upon the other ; and in speaking of the attachments 
of a muscle, we say it arises from that bone which generally 
remains stationary when the muscle contracts, and that it is 
inserted into the bone which it moves. 

I may here remark, if you divide a muscle in a living ani- 



91 

mal, or an animal thai has heen but a short time dead, the 
divided ends will retract from each other, — the limb to which 
the muscle is attached being in its natural extended position. 
This retraction is owing to the organization of the contractile 
part ofthe muscle, and not to that of its tendinous part. There 
are several facts relative to this retraction of the ends of a di- 
vided muscle, worthy of notice, jf the animal be in a weak 
and sickly state when the muscle is divided, the retraction 
will not be so great as if the animal were strong and healthy. 
And in case the animal have recently died, the retraction will 
be infinitely less if its death were occasioned by a stroke of 
lightning ; by a diffusible and active poison, as prusic acid 5 
or by any cause that instantly destroys the secretion of nervous 
jiuid^ than if occasioned by some other cause. 

Owing to the above mentioned facts, some physiologists 
have ascribed to muscles a physiological property which we 
have not mentioned, and which they called tone, or tonicity* 
And it must be admitted, that if the extended state of a mus- 
cle be its natural state, the retraction which we have mention- 
ed is not one of those facts which lead us to say a body is elas- 
tic or possesses elasticity — see p. 44. Consequently this re- 
traction must be ascribed to a property peculiar to organized 
beings, that is, a physiological or vital property. But mstead 
of giving muscles a peculiar property besides their contractil- 
ity, on accoimt of this retraction of its divided ends. I would 
attribute it to that organization on which their contractility 
depends, and say it is a manifestation of contractility without 
a stimulus. 

The broad voluntary muscles occupy in general the parie- 
tes or walls of the cavities of the animal system, as those of 
the thorax or abdomen. They form in part these parietes, 
defend the internal organs, and at the same time, by their mo- 



92 

tions assist their functions. Their thickness is not great, 
most of thenn appearing like muscular membranes. 

The short muscles are those in which the three dimensions 
are nearly equal, having a thickness in proportion to their 
width and length. They are generally found in places in 
■which much power is required, and but small extent of mo- 
tion permitted. 

The muscles which we have been speaking of are each en- 
closed in a sort of membraneous sheath, and for the most 
part are separated from each other to some little distance by 
the interposition of cellular membrane — the many little cells 
of which are sometimes filled with fat. But more than this, 
the muscles themselves are formed of bundles of fibies called 
lacerti, each of which is also enclosed in a sheath of mem- 
brane ; these lacerti are also divisible into still smaller bun- 
dles, and these again into smaller, apparently without any li- 
mit, — each bundle still having a very delicate membrane of 
its own. 

Physiologists suppose, however, that there is an ultimate 
muscular fibre, w^hich has its own nervous twig and its own 
capillary, nutritive vessel ; and much speculation about the 
nature of this fibre has been offered. But at present we will 
speak of such fibres, or rather bundles of fibres, as may be 
distinguished by the naked eye. 

In some muscles, even very long ones, the fibres run the 
whole length of the fleshy mass ; but in other cases they have 
an oblique direction forming what are called penniform mus- 
cles. In such cases there is a membrane in the body of the 
muscle to which the fibres are attached. 

,Bichat says, that *' Every muscular fibre runs its course 
without bifurcating or dividing in any manner." He says, 
too, that " All the fibres of the voluntary muscles are straight, 
those of the sphincters excepted*" Yet when a muscle is lib- 



93 

erated from its attachments, it may contract so as to give its 
fibres a wave-like appearance. 

Much more force is required to rupture living than dead 
muscular fibres, or in other words, when an animal is in that 
condition called living, the particles of matter which consti- 
tute its muscular fibres adhere together in a much greater de- 
gree than when such animal is dead. But this is not the case 
with the fibrous textures ; to which class of textures belong 
the tendons of which we have been speaking. 

This fact relative to the difference of strength in the living 
and dead muscular fibres, ! consider as one among very ma- 
ny others tending to show that the muscular system, during a 
stale of health, is as constantly receiving a fluid from the ner- 
vous system as from the sanguineous. 

With respect to blood vessels, there are no organs so 
plentifiilly supplied with them as the muscles, excepting some 
of the viscera. The arteries are distributed among the fibres 
in numerous branches, which divide and subdivide with so 
much minuteness, as at length to become no longer visible. 
The capillary veins are equally as numerous as the arteries, 
but the marner in which the arteries are connected with the 
veins, is not accurately ascertained. 

The apparatus of nerves which is sent to the muscles, is 
very considerable ; and especially to those whsch are under 
the control of the will, being greater, in proportion to their 
size, than to any other part of the body, except the organs of 
the senses. 

As to the size and nature of the ultimate muscular Jibre, or 
that fibre which cannot be divided without a breach of sub- 
stance, the microscopical anatomists do not agree. Leeuwen- 
hoek supposed that many thousands of them united to form 
one visible fibre. Sir A. Carlisle describes the ultimate fibre 
as a solid cvluider, the covering of which is a reticuiaied 



94 

membrane, and the contained part a pulpy substance regu- 
larly granulated, and of very little cohesive power when dead. 
Bauer makes out that it is about 1-2000 of an inch in diam- 
eter ; some have considered it as straight, some as zig-zag or 
waved, some as knotted, some as being solid and others as 
hollow, while others consider it as jointed, consisting of a 
number of parts connected together like a row of beads. 

Another opinion was, that it is entirely composed of ves- 
sels, either possessing some peculiar arrangement or consist- 
ingofthe small branches of arteries. Another opinion zeal- 
ously defended by Cullen, was, that the muscular fibres are 
continuous with those of the nerves ;^that Ihcy are in fact 
nerves under a different structure, &c. &c. But all these 
conjectures do not help us in the least to explain the pheno- 
mena of contraction ; and I only advance them to show that 
learned men of renown have suffered themselves to advance 
notions that are not in themselves plausible, and if true, do 
not help us to explain any thing. 

We have already said that if the nerves going to a volunta- 
ry muscle be divided or compressed, in any part of their 
course from the brain to the muscle,^' the will has no more 
power over the muscle until the nerves be restored to their 
natural state again. Wc may here add, that if the arteries 
be tied so that no blood can go to the muscles, or the veins 
tied so that the blood cannot return from them, their contrac- 
tility is soon extinct. 

We believe that the nerves going to the voluntary muscles 
answer two purposes, not to say any thmg about feeling. — 
One purpose is the same as that which the nerves of the in- 



* So far as it respects this, and the like operations, the spi- 
nal cord may be considered as one great nervous trunk, giving off 
branches t© the parts, to which we commonly say it gives off nerves. 



95- 

voluntary muscles fulfil, to wit : convey something to theai 
which intimately unites with them, and assists in making out 
that organization on which their contractility — their proper- 
ty of being excited to contract — depends. The other pur- 
pose is to communicate to them whatever it is that is the im- 
mediate cause of their contractions. 

Many attempts have been made to explain the phenomena 
of muscular contractions, that is, to point out the changes or 
events which precede it, and the order in which these events 
occur; but it is not necessar) to the accomplishment of any 
of my present designs, to lay these attempts before the read- 
er. 1 shall advance my own notions m the next chapter. 

One remarkable circumstance respecting muscular con-, 
traction is, that after a stimulus has been applied forsome time, 
the contraction ceases, although the stimulus continues to be 
applied. Tlrs is observed in all experiments upon muscles, 
with either mechanical or chemical agents ; it likewise takes 
place in all natural operations of the system, and is to be ob- 
served in a remarkable degree in the voluntary muscles. In 
performing any voluntary act which we strongly desire to 
perform, we find ourselves unable to persevere in the action 
beyond a certain length of time, even if our lives depended 
on such perseverance. But merely by resting for a certain 
time, we may be again able to commence the action, espe- 
cially if the system be well nourished. Respecting this cir- 
eumstance, I know of no facts that prove conclusively 
whether the muscles lose their power to contract by their 
continued exercise, or whether the failure is ov^ing to a lacl^ 
of that which causes them to contract ; or we will say, a lack 
of stimulus, be the nature of this stimulus what it may. 

Respecting the relaxation of muscles, it is generally con- 
sidered as merely a passive effect, and I believe this opinion 
Ts correct so far as it respects the voluntary muscles, but not 



96 

so as it respects the hollow or involuntary. And when one 
considers all the circumstances which relate to these two clas- 
ses of muscles, it does appear to me that he can find no diil- 
cuhy in admitting that what we call the relaxation of one set, 
is different in its nature from what we call the relaxation of 
the other set. 

fn the case of the voluntary muscles, their constituent par- 
ticles have, at all times, a tendency to approach each other 
more closely than they do in their ordinary state of being, as 
is proved by what takes place when we divide a muscle which 
is not liberated from its attachments ; but owing to circum- 
stances, this tendency of its particles must be increased be- 
.fore they can approach each other more closely. Now what 
are these circumstances ? Why, the muscles are attached to 
the bones at both ends, which bones cannot be moved with- 
out some force ; but more than this, the voluntary muscles 
have their antagonist muscles, which, as we may say, are con- 
tinually pulling the contrary way. But when the cerebral stim- 
ulus shoots along down into a certain set of muscles, it gives 
their particles so strong a tendency to approach each other, 
that they do so, notwithstanding the powers which they must 
overcome in doing so ; but as soon as the cerebral stimulus 
ceases to operate, these powers (the antagonist muscles, the 
weight of some parts and the elasticity of others,) bring the 
contracted muscles back again to their former state of relax- 
ation ; hence this relaxation is a passive effect. It is not 
brought about by the inherent powers of the muscles which 
relax, but by other powers. 

But mark the circumstances of the hollow muscles, for in- 
stance the heart. The situation of this hollow muscle is such 
that the constituent particles of its contractile fibres may at all 
times approach each other as closely as they are disposed to. 
The fibres of this organ are not generally on the stretch ; — >■' 



97 

take the heart out of the body and empty out all the fluids 
which it may contain, and its fibres will not shorten ; in oth- 
er words, the heart will not approach the state which it is in 
when contracted, as the solid muscles will when liberated 
from their attachments. Cut a gash in the heart, and the cut 
surfaces will not recede like the cut extremities of solid mus- 
cles. 

From these and other facts which might be adduced, it is 
evident that the heart is so organized that it has a tendency 
to remain in that state, which is called the dilated or relaxed 
state. Its constituent particles do not want, if I may so say, 
to be any nearer each other than they are when the heart is 
dilated ; on the contrary, they are disposed to be as distant 
from each other as they are when the heart is in this state : — - 
this is their natural state of coaptation. Nevertheless, such 
is the relation between the fibres of the heart and the blood, 
that when the blood comes into the heart, it causes the con- 
stituent particles of the heart''s contractile fibres to approach 
each other more closely ; or in other words, causes the heart 
to contract. This contraction forces the blood out of the 
heart, that is, removes the agent which caused the contrac- 
tion. This being done, the constituent particles of the heart 
recede to their former wonted relations, as they have a strong 
tendency to do. Hence we see that what is called the relax- 
ation or diastole of the heart, is not a passive event ; it is 
done by the heart's own powers, and it would require a force 
to prevent it, instead of its being caused by the operation of 
a distinct agent. And instead of saying the blood pours into 
the heart and dilates it, we ought to say the heart dilates and 
sucks in the blood. But, as we have shown, it is altogether 
different with the voluntary muscles — the muscles which 
have antagonists; the particles of these muscles cannot enjoy 

the privilege of being in as close contact as they are dispos«sd 

13 



98 

te be, except they be enabled, by times, by the cerebral stitnr 
tilus ; but as soon as this fugitive cause ceases to operate, 
they are drawn asunder even further than they are disposed to 
be, and the muscle is said to be relaxed. 

Tliis, then, is the conclusion : — The heart in a living state 
is disposed to be dilated, and the blood must act upon it to 
bring it out of this state ; but when the blood is removed, the 
heart resumes its dilated state with some considerable force, 
and of its own inherent tendency ; as would a caoutchouc 
"bag or bottle, after being compressed in on all sides. Yet I 
do not think it strictly proper to say the heart is elastic or pos- 
sesses elasticity on account of its dilating itself after suffering 
contraction : 1 think it would not be proper, because we ap- 
ply the word elastic to those bodies, the particles of which 
have a manifest tendency to resume their former relations af- 
ter being displaced by mechanical force ; and every body 
who knows what mechanical force is, and what the heart is, 
knows that the heart is not caused to contract by such force. 
If I must say the heart possesses a property, because, after 
contracting it dilates as it does, (and I have just as good rea- 
son to say so, as 1 have to say vinegar possesses the property 
of acidity,) 1 would rather name this property extensibility 
than elasticity. And we should say that the distinction be- 
tween extensibility and elasticity is vqtv obvious — extensibil- 
ity being invariably confined to the contractile organs, and 
manifesting itself after the operation of a stimulus ; whereas 
elasticity invariably manifests itself after the operation of a 
mechanical force. Stop, — this moment it occurs to me that 
there is an objection to this use of the word extensibility : — it 
has been used to denote the ability of being extended, where- 
as I have used it to denote the faculty of an organ to extend 
itself. — What if we should use the words active and passive to 
distinguish these two kinds of extensibility, — saying that when 



99 

an organ has the faculty of extending itself, it possesses active 
extensibility ; but when it barely admits of being extended 
by a distinct agent, it possesses passive extensibilit) ? 

In support of the above speculations, it nnay be remarkedj 
that by grasping the heart of a bullock which is so detached 
that it cannot be caused to dilate by the rushing in of the 
blood, a man cannot prevent its dilatation, as I rerr.ember to 
have read somewhere in Bichat's System of General Anato- 
my, And furthermore, we cannot give a satisfactory explan- 
ation of the circulation of the venous blood, but by supposing 
the heart to dilate by virtue of its own organization, and to 
suck it up. But this is not the place to speak of the proper- 
ties and functions — 

Of the Involuntary Muscles. These muscles, like the vol- 
untary, are far from being entirely composed of the contrac- 
tile texture ; but we shall not notice particularly the less im-f 
portant textures of which they are in part constituted. 

They constitute a system of organs which agree with each 
other in being hollow, in being excited to contract by theit 
contents, and (with the exception of a few, more immediate- 
ly concerned in generation,) in being wholly subservient to 
the growth and well being of the individual of which they are 
a part. 

This system comprises the alimentary canal, (with the ex- 
ception of its extremities, the muscles of which receive nerves 
from the animal system, and of course are under the control 
of the will,) the heart, and the infinite number of contractile 
vessels concerned in the circulation of the blood, in nutrition, 
secretion, exhalation, and perhaps absorption; it includes 
also the uterus, the bladder, in short, every vessel, whether 
tubulated or spheroidal, which is excited to contract by its 
contents. 

Of these organs we must take more particular notice; that 



100 

we mny know more of the an'md system, and be better pre- 
pared for explaining many of its interesting phenomena. 

Besides the two extremities above mentioned, the ahmen- 
tary canal consists of an cesophagus, a stomach, and an intes- 
tine ; which last is about six times the length of the system, 
[head, body, and lower limbs ;] and having particular names 
applied to particular parts of it, we often speak of intestines 
as though there were more than one in the same animal. 

The oesophagus extends from the mouth to the stomach 5 
it is that part which is vulgarly called the meat-pipe. When 
it is empty, its sides collapse, so as to be in contact, or nearly 
so ; but like the stomach and intestines, it possesses no small 
degree of passive extensibility ; it has, like the intestines, two 
sets of muscular fibres, circular and longitudinal; the food 
passing from the mouth to the stomach excites such an action 
of these fibres as assists in propelling it along ;• — it is not car- 
ried along solely by its own weight : if the oesophagus pos- 
sessed no propelling power, a few mouthfuls swallowed by a 
man lying horizontally, or with his head lowest, would not 
reach his stomach. 

As soon as the oesophagus passes out of the thorax into the 
abdomen, it ends, that is to say, the alimentary canal sudden- 
ly widens out at this place, and presently contracts again so 
as to form a sac with two openings. This sac is what anato- 
mists call stomach, and is quite a different organ, and lies in a 
somewhat lower region than what many people appear to 
think when they lay their hands upon the anterior part of 
the thorax, and speak of a weakness of the stomach, of pain 
in the stomach, &c. 

The superior orifice of the stomach, or that which leads 
to the oesophagus, is called the cardiac orifice ; the inferior, 
leading to the intestines, is called pylorus or pyloric orifice. 
ICach of these orifices is surrounded with a considerable 



101 

quantity of muscular or contractile fibres, in such a rnartJter 
as to form sphincters, which may close their orifices com- 
pletely. It is by means of its sphincter that the pylorus is 
closed so as to retain the food in the stomach until \t has un- 
dergone due changes. We shall presently notice an inter- 
esting fact relative to the action of the pylorus. 

When the stomach is empty it is collapsed ; when full, it 
approaches the conical form, though considerably curved. 
That extremity towards the cardiac oritice is the largest, and 
lies towards the left side ; the lesser or pyloric extremity is a 
little to the right of the centre of the body ; as the stomach 
lies obliquely across the body, inclining a little downwards 
from left to right, the pyloric extremity is somewhat lower 
than the cardiac extremity. 

The stomach is capable of being extended by our foods 
and drinks so as to contain from two to six pints, and in some 
rare cases, much more : instances of Limosis Hxptrns or in- 
satiable craving for food, are given, in which a boy only 
twelve years of age has taken in six successive days 384 
pounds avoirdupois of foods and drinks ; — in which a lady has 
devoured fourteen hundred herrings at a meal,* <Sz;c. &;c. 

It is probable that in such cases as these, some of the food 
begins to pass out of the stomach into the intestines before the 
person has done his baiting ; but in common cases the food 
is retained in the stomach an hour or two before the pylorus 
suffers it to pass into the bowels. 

The stomach, as well as the intestines, consists of three la- 
minae or membraneous coats besides its muscular. One of 
these coats performs such important offices, that we must 
take notice of it. It is the internal coat, and is called the 
mucous or villous coat ; it is continuous with the internal or 

* See Good's «* Study of Medicine," vol. 1, p. 73. 



102 

mucous coat of the oesophagus and intestines, and like them 
possesses an apparatus for secreting a bland viscid fluid called 
mucus ; but it is of a different structure from the mucous coat 
of these organs, and possesses an apparatus for secreting a 
fluid of great solvent powers, c^Wed gastric fluid. This fluid, 
though destitute of any remarkable sensible qualities, has the 
power of producing great changes on the materials taken into 
the stomach. It has frequently been known to dissolve the 
coats of the stomach itself, in cases where healthy pei sons 
have been suddenly killed, as by accident, whose stomachs 
contained a portion of this fluid in a high state of perfection, 
without any materials in the stomach for it to work upon. It 
is very generally admitted among medical men, that the pre- 
sence of this fluid in the stomach without materials for it to 
mix with;i is the cause of the sensation of hunger. Hunger 
may be relieved by taking this fluid from the stomach by- 
means of an elastic tube introduced down the oesophagus. 

In cases of inordinate appetite for food, this fluid may be 
more abundant, or of a more active nature than in health, or 
what in many cases appears more probable, the mucus of the 
stomach which is calculated to defend its surface from the ac- 
tion of the gastric fluid, may be deficient. 

Whatever affects the secretion of this fluid, so as to impair 
its quality or diminish its quantity, injures the appetite ; hence 
we shall be able to show, in the course of this work, how 
certain passions take off the appetite, or interrupt the proper 
digestion of a meal of victuals already down. — It will be re- 
membered that the stomach receives some of its nerves more 
directly from the brain (han any other abdominal organ. 

Like all organs which perform important functions, and 
especially all organs which secrete a fluid, the stomach re- 
ceives a large proportion of blood. 

The fuuctioa of the stomach is to convert the food int© 



103 

Viytne^ and to propel it into the intestines. The chyme is 
generally described as beingahonnogeneous, pultaceous, grey- 
ish substance ; but its properties depend nnuch on the kind 
of aliment, and on the condition of the stomach as being 
healthy or unhealthy. 

The stomach converts the food into chyme by means of its 
gastric fluid, and it propels the chyme into the bowels by 
means of its muscular coat ; the action of this coat also as- 
sists the gastric juice in coming in contact with the materials 
in the stomach, by moving the chyme onward, out of its way, 
towards the pyloric orifice, as fast as it is formed. 

If any indigestible substance, as a piece of metal, present 
itself at the pyloric orifice for a passage into the bowels, it is 
not at first permitted to pass, for it excites a contraction of 
the sphincter of this orifice- — this contraction not being con= 
fined to the orifice alone, bat extendir^g along towards the 
cardiac extremity, the indigestible substance is worked back 
again, for the intent, as it were, of undergoing still longer the 
action of the gastric fluid. Some time afler this a contraction 
again commences at the cardiac extremity, and again works 
the substance along towards the pylorus, but it is perhaps 
again thrown back as before ; but after soliciting a passage 
several times, it is at length permitted to pass the pylorus, al- 
though it have sufifered no essential change by lying so long 
in the stomach. This curious fact we cannot explain, but 
by referring it to the influence of habiL We say that in time 
the pyloiic orifice becomes so habituated to the stimulus of 
the indigestible substance, that it does not excite it to con- 
tract to so great a degree as at first, and hence it is permitted 
to pass. Some other phenomena occur in the animal sys- 
tem, analogous to this. 

About twelve inches of the upper extremity of the intes* 
tine — the extremity that is connected with the stomach at its 



i04 

pyloric orifice— is called duodenum. The diameter of this 
portion is much larger than the diameter oHhe jejunum or the 
ileum^ the two next portions in order. A duct from the liver 
called the hepatic duct, and a duct from the gall bladder call- 
ed the cystic duct, unite and form (he ductus choledocus com* 
munis ; this common duct, and a duct from the pancreas, open 
into the duodenum by one common orifice. Bile is convey- 
ed into this intestine by the common bile duct, and a fluid 
analogous to the saliva or spittle, by the pancreatic duct. 

The pancreas is a long, tapering, glandular body, of a dull 
white color, tinged with red, andextending transversely across 
the upper and back part of the abdomen ; — it is that part 
which is commonl^^ called the sweet-bread ; — it secretes the 
pancreatic fluid. 

The chyme having passed from the stomach into the duo- 
denum, is here united with the bile and the pancreatic fluid, 
and is converted, much of it, into a fluid much resembling 
milk, called chyle ; what is not converted into chyle is of no 
use in the animal economy, and is called excrementitious mat- 
ter. This matter, together with the chyle, is propelled by 
the peristaltic motion of the duodenum into the jejunum, 
where much of the chyle is taken up by the thousands of mi- 
nute vessels that open on the inner surface of this intestine. 
These minute vessels are called lacteals — We shall speak of 
them presently. But all the chyle is not taken up by the lac- 
teals that open on the inner surface of the jejunum, for the 
peristaltic motion that commences in the duodenum, or even 
in the stomach, continues downward, through the whole ex- 
tent of the bowels, or nearly so, and by it much of the chyle 
is hurried on, as it were, from the jejunum into the ileum, 
where it is taken up by other lacteals opening into this 
intestine •, but the excrementitious matter is propelled into 
the large intestines, viz. the coecum, the colon and the rectum. 



The peristaltic motion of the intestines is effected by a 
eontraction of those contractile fibres which form their mus- 
cular coat ; and these fibres are excited to contract by the 
matter contained by the intestines ; hence such matter may 
be called their stimulus. In a healthy state this contraction 
commences in the upper extremity of the intestinal canal, and 
proceeds gradually downwards. It is of such a nature that 
the diameter of the canal is very much lessened wherever it 
exists ; but it exists only in a small extent of the canal at one 
time ; for relaxation follows close after contraction. We 
have reason to suppose that the contraction is so great, in 
some instances, as to bring the sides of the canal nearly or 
quite in contact ; for although some of the intestines, as the 
colon, make such turns that whatever passes them must be 
forced perpendicularly up, against its own gravity, still quick- 
silver is thus forced up, as is proved by its having passed from 
the mouth through the body. 

Among the involuntary contractile organs, T think we may* 
class the absorbents. It is true we can discover no such look- 
ing fibres in the absorbent vessels as we can in most muscu- 
lar organs ; but we do not determine whether an organ be 
muscular by its appearance, but by its properties : if it may 
be excited to contract by a stimulus, we call it muscular ; for 
it is evident that it possesses more or less contractile fibres. 
Now it is certain that the absorbent vessels circulate their 
contents, and the most rational supposition is, that they do it 
in part at least by contraction. 

Two classes of vessels, not to mention certain glands, com* 
pose what is commonly called the absorbent system. The 
lacteals above mentioned constitute one class ; the vessels 
that constitute the other class are called lymphatics, 

h is generally believed that every organ in the system 

possesses lymphatic vessels, though none have been discover- 

14 



106 

ed in the brain, notwithstanding they have been much sought 
.after. Their proper function is a disputed question ; for 
experinnents prove, and some pathological facts seem to show 
that the veins may absorb liquids^ and if the veins canabsorb,- 
of what use are the lymphatics ? 

I conjecture it is the proper function of the lymphatics to 
to eat down, as it were, and carry off the solid parts of the 
body, which parts are continually recruited by another set of 
vessels, which may be called nutritive vessels, but which, in 
fact, are exceedingly minute branches of the arterial system. 

I know of no facts tending to show that the lymphatics do 
not perform this office, nor ofany facts proving that the veins 
do perform it ; and we can but believe that the lymphatics 
have some peculiar office to perform — an office which can- 
not, under the present arrangement, or nature of things, be 
performed by the veins. 

Almost all physiologists admit that all parts of the body are 
continually undergoing changes, the old matter being remov- 
ed and new deposited, so that the atoms which composed the 
body called G.W. in 1 775, were none of them present, perhaps, 
in the body still called G. W. in 1790. But it may hereafter 
be admitted that the brain suffers no such changes. 

The lymphatics from the lower extremities, and the lacteals 
from the jejunum and ileum, unite into one common duct, in 
the abdomen ; this duct passes along up from the abdomen, 
very near the spine, to the upper part of the thorax, and opens 
into the left subclavian vein, pouring into the sanguineous sys- 
tem both lympli and chyle, mixed together. Other lymphat- 
ic vessels from the superior extremities, and from those parts 
of the head which are exterior to the brain, open into the 
right and left subclavian veins. 

The lymph we consider as the old worn out matter of the 
system ; the chyle as the nutritive matter, to supply the place 



107 

of the old. After entering the veins, both kinds of mattec 
soon reach the heart, mixed with the blood. 

The heart is a hollow muscular organ, of a conical form, 
enclosed in a membraneous sac, called pericardium^ and is 
situated pretty near the centre of the thorax. It is placed 
obliquely in the body, so that its base presents backward and 
to the right, and its apex forward and to the left. Its cavity 
is partitioned into four apartments, two of which are called 
auricles, and the other two, ventricles — the auricles form the 
base of the cone and receive the blood from the veins ; the 
ventricles form the body and apex, and force the blood into 
the arteries. — We say that one auricle and one ventricle be* 
long to the right side of the heart, and the other auricle and 
ventricle to the left side. The walls of the heart, particular- 
ly around the ventricles, are very thick and powerful, being 
composed almost entirely of contractile fibres which cross 
each other in various directions. 

Two great veins, called vencB caves, which bring blood from 
every part of the body, open into the right auricle, from 
al)ove and from below ; the right auricle opens into the right 
ventricle, and from the right ventricle arises the pulmonary 
artery, which passes to the lungs. The pulmonary veins^ 
which bring back the blood from the lungs, open into the left 
auricle ; this auricle opens into the left ventricle, and from 
this ventricle proceeds the great artery, called the aorta^ 
which carries blood to every part of the body. 

At the instant the right auricle contracts, the right ventricle 
dilates, and not only lets in the blood, but, as we believe, sucks 
it in from the right auricle j but there is a valve so situated 
over the aperture by which the blood enters the ventricle; 
that when the ventricle contracts, this valve shuts down, and 
the blood, instead of passing back into the auricle, is forced 
up into the pulmonary artery -, but this artery is also furnish- 



108 

ed with valves at its origin, so situated that, although they suf- 
fer the blood to pass into the artery, they will not permit it 
to return into the ventricle, when it again dilates, and when 
the artery contracts upon it, pushing it along into its branch- 
es. The pulmonary artery divides and subdivides into innu- 
merable minute branches, which ramify in the delicate mem- 
branes which form the air cells of the lungs. — Concerning 
these air cells, we must say a few words in this place. 

What are called the lunj^s, are two bodies of minute cells, 
if we may so say, — one body is called the right lung, the other 
the left ; in shape they somewhat resemble the hoofs of an 
ox : the heart is situated between them, but they are united 
above the heart. These minute cells are formed by very 
thin membranes, and they communicate with each other in 
such a manner that the air coming down the trachea or wind- 
pipe during inspiration, may find its way into every one of 
them. These are the air cells. They are far from being 
entirely emptied by expiration ; but the air generally remain- 
ing in the lungs is estimated at about 2000 cubic inches, and 
the quantity drawn in and forced out by each inspiration and 
expiration, is estimated at about 300 cubic inches. The air 
in the cells keeps them expanded, or in other words, keeps 
their parietes stretched out in such a manner that the vessels 
of these parietes, which are very numerous, circulate their 
fluids with much more facility than they otherwise would. — 
Often the venous blood becomes so collected about the right 
side of the heart as to give rise to a slight sensation, which 
may be relieved by deep inspirations or by yawning ; for in 
this way much air is inhaled — the air cells are expanded, 
and the circulation of the blood through the lungs facilitated. 
But this is far from being the important use of the air in the 
lungs. 

The air consists of 21 parts of oxygen and 79 of nitrogen 



109 

chemically united ; there is also mixed with it considerable 
aqueous vapour, and a small proportion of carbonic acid gas ; 
the proportion of this acid is variable, but generally one hun- 
dred parts of air contain one of the acid. 

The oxygen is so essential to the existence of animals, that 
they die when deprived of it but for a few minutes. Conse- 
quently, by being breathed, the air suffers a change, not only 
in its chemical composition, but in the materials which are 
mixed with it : instead of consisting of 21 parts of oxygen, 
79 of nitrogen, one of carbonic acid, and some aqueous va- 
pour, the expired air contains 18 or 19 parts of oxygen, 3 or 
4 of carbonic acid, and a great quantity of vapour, called pul- 
monary transpiration — the proportion of nitrogen remaining 
nearly the same. In some instances of hard drinkers, this 
pulmonary transpiration becomes so loaded with alcoholic 
matter that it is inflammable ; in such cases the individual 
had better be careful about breathing into a candle, unless he 
wishes to have his thorax blown to pieces. 

Now the venous blood which is found not only in the veins, 
but in the right auricle and ventricle of the heart, and in the 
pulmonary artery, is of a brown red colour, but when it passes 
through the minute branches of the pulmonary artery which 
ramify in the thin membranes which form the air cells, it suf- 
fers great changes — it assumes a bright scarlet colour ; its 
odour becomes more sensible, its taste more distinct ; its 
temperature rises about one degree; a part of its serum or 
more aqueous portion passes olf, constituting a part of the 
pulmonary transpiration, and its tendency to coagulate aug- 
ments. The venous blood havitig suffered these changes, be- 
comes arterial blood. That these changes are produced by 
the operation of the oxjgen of the air, is manifest, from 
the fact, that if there be any other gas in the lungs, or if 
the air be not suitably renewed, these changes do not take 



110 

place. Blood exposed to air or to (he action of pure oxjgen 
gas, out of the body, suffers a like change of colour. Indeed, 
if jou put venous blood into a moist bladder, and plunge it in- 
to oxygen g?is, it becomes scarlet all over its surface. • Hence 
we need not wonder that the very delicate vascular walls 
which, in the lung?, separate the blood from the air, are no 
obstacle to the changes of the blood which the air produces. 
But it may be inquired how the oxygen produces these chan- 
ges in the venous blood. Ch.emists are not agreed upon this 
point. Some think that it combines directly with the blood ; 
others that it removes from the blood a certain quraitity of 
carbon ; and there are others again, who are inclined to be- 
lieve that both these effects take place. 

When the nervous blood is changed into arterial, in the 
lungs, it docs not immediately pass into arteries, but into mi- 
nute venous branches, which collect into four trunks, called 
pulmonary veins* These four veins convey the blood to the 
left auricle of the heart ; when the left ventricle dilates, it re- 
ceives the blood from the auricle ; but the aperture by which 
it receives it is furnished with a valve, so that when the ven- 
tricle contracts, the biood is not forced back into the auricle, 
but into the aoita, which is the great artery that, by its innu- 
merable branches, conveys blood to every part of the body. 

This great arfery, togethei with its branches, forms what is 
commonly called the arterial system, for the objects accom- 
plished by this system of vessels are altogether different from 
the object accomplished by the pulmonary artery. This last 
does not carry any thing to the lungsfor their growth or main- 
tenance ; its office is to carry the blood to the lungs that it 
my ut^dergo the changes above mentioned. The substance 
of the lungs receives its proper arteries from the common 
aortic arterial system, by which it is nourished, as docs every 
other part of the body. 



ill 

When the branches of the aorta become as small as hairs, 
and even some of them so much smaller as to be invisible to 
the naked eye, they are called capillary vessels. Such mi- 
nute branches of veins may also be called capillary vessels. 
Hence, not to say a word about the lymphatics and lacleals, 
we have too grand divisions of capillary vessels — those of the 
arterial and those of the venous system. 

As (he aorta divides into branches, its capacity increases, 
that is, the calibres of all the branches into which any branch 
or trunk may divide, taken togetlier, exceed the calibre of 
such branch or trunk. The same holds true wiijii respect to 
the veins. Hence we may cotrpare the sanguineons system 
to a cone, the apex of which is the heart, and the base of 
which is composed of the arterial and venous capillaries, or, 
indeed, if we reckon (as we ought) the pulmonary artery and 
veins as constiti!ting a part of the sanguineous system, we 
may compare it to two cones, the apexes of which meet at 
the heart. 

It is to be remembered, too, that the smaller the branches, 
the greater the proportion of contractile or muscular fibres 
which enter into their structure; this is so much the case, 
that we may suppose that the amount of muscular fibres pos- 
sessed by the arterial and venous capillaries, equals, perhaps 
far exceeds, the quantity of muscular fibres possessed by the 
heart, and consequently that the muscular power of the capil- 
laries, collectively, equals or exceeds that of the heart. 

This supposition, not destitute of support derived from ex- 
amining the vessels, as John Hunter has shown, will assist us 
in explaining several phenomena, manifested in many diseas- 
es and during the existence of the passions,' as we shall see in 
the course of this woik. 

It is admitted on all hands that the arterial capillaries ter- 
minate in dijTereat ways — sOime of them lerminate in the ca- 



112 

piliary veins ; some on the surfaces ofnnennhranes, as (he skin,^ 
the inner or mucous membrane of the alimentary canal and 
urinary passages ; and on the surface of the several serous 
membranes ; some terminate in the secretory glands, as the 
salivary glands, the liver, kidnies, pancreas, &;c. ; others, 
again, we must suppose to terminate in the parts in which 
they deposit the materials of which the parts are formed, and 
by which they are kept in repair. 

As to our being able to determine, by inspection, where the 
arterial capillaries terminate, and where the venal capillaries 
commence, we cannot ; but we may say that so long as the 
fluids continue to move from the hearty they are in the arte- 
ries ; but when they make such turns as to approach the heart, 
they are in the veins. 

All the arterial capillaries that do not terminate in veins, 
may be called secreting vessels, because they all sort out, as 
it were, certain materials from the blood. What are com- 
monly called nutritive vessels, secrete from the blood the ma- 
terials of which our organs are formed. Other vessels se- 
crete materials from the blood which are no longer of any 
use in the animal economy ; such are the materials of the 
urine and perspirable matter ; others again secrete fluids 
which serve important purposes in the animal economy,— the 
bile, the gastric fluid, and many others that might be men- 
tioned, are of this description. — It is true, we talk about the 
glands secreting ; we say the liver s<^cretes bile, the kidnies 
urine, the salivary glands saliva or spittle, &;c. iSzc. This way 
of speaking is sufliciently correct for all common purposes ; 
but the physiologist tells you that certain capillary vessels 
belonging to these glands, are the immediate organs of secre- 
tion. We do not suppose any of the venal capillaries secreie. 
However, many veins from the bowels unite m one trunk 
which enters the liver and there branches out again, and we 



113 

have some reason to suppose that these branches secrete some 
part of the bile ; but admitting that they do so, these branch- 
es in the iiver have more of the appearance of arteries than 
of veins, and we would sooner call them arteries than admit 
that veins secrete. 

As some capillaries secrete one kind of fluid, and some 
another, and as they all secrete their fluids from one common 
fountain, the blood, — the phenomena of secretion have given 
rise to much speculation. It has not only been a question 
how any one set of vessels secrete any one particular kind of 
fluid, but wherein different sets of vessels differ, so as to be 
able to secrete different kinds of fluids. I shall not notice 
all these speculations, but proceed to offer what 1 consider 
the most rational hypothesis concerning secretion. 

1 might advance this hypothesis to better advantage after 
treating of (he relation between the nervous and muscular 
systems ; for I must here take certain positions as granted 
which I shall labor to support in treating of this relation :— 
nevertheless, I shall offer the hypothesis in this place. 

1 hold that all secreting vessels may be excited to contract 
by their contents, and of course possess the property of con- 
tractility, and may be called contractile or muscular organs. 
But in order that they may be contractile, they must receive 
something, by way of their nerves, from the nervous system ; 
which something is an invisible fluid, whether you call it 
such, or whether you call it '"nervous energy" or" nervous 
influence." 1 hold, too, that different vessels are differently 
tempered — that they receive different proportions of nervous 
energy ; and partly or v^holly on this account their contrac- 
tility is diffierent, that is, the same materials will not excite 
the same degree of contraction in all of them. 

Again — different materials will not excite the same degree 
of action in the samt vessels ; hence we know that different 



114 

Knaterials, or, if you please, different stimuli, possess dtirerent 
stimulating qualities, and for conveiiience sake, we shall call 
the stimulating quality of a stimulus, its stimahility, — Be it 
remembered, then, that the stimulus o( any hollow muscular 
organ is the matter which such organ contains, but stimability 
is a property of such matter or stimulus.* 

We have seen that the contents of the alimentary canal ex- 
cite in it a sort of contraction by which they are moved along; 
we have seen that some indigestible substances in the stom- 
ach excite such a contraction of the pylorus as prevents their 
passing this orifice, and we might have added, that some sub- 
stances excite such a contraction of the intestines as to pre- 
vent their passage, giving rise to a species of colic which may 
be called constrictive, or spasmodic colic. Now we suppose 
that something analogous takes place in those little hollow 
muscular organs called the capillaries — we suppose that, in 
order that these vessels may circulate any materials, there 
must be a certain due relation betvveen the contractihty of 
the vessels and the stimability of such materials. 

If the stimability be too high for the contractility, or, what 
is the same thing, if the contractility be lOO low for the stim- 
ability, a sort of constrictive spasm will be excited in the 
vessels, which will prevent the materials from passing ; and 

*I trust the reader will not be led to think that we make new 
ihiifs^s when we only invent new words to express relations between 
agents. A vessel and the material which it contains, are two 
ajients ; and because the material gives rise to an action of the ves- 
sel, we say the material possesses a property of exciting this ac- 
tion, and the vessel possesses a property of being e>. cited — we -ay 
that one possesses stimability. the other cofilractiliiy ; bnt altho' 
our lang'iage would seem 1o imply thnt stimnbility and contractihty 
are something distinct from the agents which are siid to possess 
them, still it is not so — they Hre, in fact, when we come to the nice- 
ty of the case, nothing but u ords of relation. Yet what a mighty 
fuss has been made in ihe world about a few thin^less names ! 



115 

such material, in order to get along, nnust take some other 
Yo\ite — some other vascular branch — which is so tempered as 
to receive it and be duly excited by it. If it have already 
passed by such other vessel, it may be worked back by the 
vessel in which it is, to the branching otF of such vessel, as 
the stomach works back indigestible substances from the py- 
lorus ; or it may, after much teasing, gain admittance along 
the vessel in which it is, the vessel becoming habituated to it, 
as the pylorus becomes habituated to the stimulus of indiges- 
tible substances in the stoma( h ; or it may be removed by 
absorbents ; or, lastly, it may prove a more permanent ob- 
struction, giving rise to disease. On the other hand — 

If the stimability be too low for the contractility, or what 
is the same thing, if tlie contractility be too high for the stim- 
ability. a propelling action will not be excited. — What then 
becomes of the material ? Why, it may be absorbed by some 
minute absorbent, penetrating the walls of the vessel ; or it 
may be puslied on by the vis a tergo of the heart and arteries 
until it come to the opening of some branch capable of re- 
ceiving it, and of being duly excited by it ; or, thirdly, it may 
be pushed through ^he whole length of the secretory vessel, 
and constitute a bland, aqueous part of the secretion, which 
will soon be removed by neighboring absorbents ; or, fourth- 
ly, it may clog up the vessel, giving rise to another kind of ob- 
struction. 

Of these four mayhes. I think the third the most plausi- 
ble : we say the vis a tergo of the heart and arteries may push 
along materials in remote vessels, which materials are not 
capable of exciting a propelling action of the vessels ; — this 
may be granted ; but if there were no such vis a tergo, these 
materials might, perhaps, be worked along, mixed with other 
materials capable of exciting an action of the vessels ; hence, 
as sonu- n>.'/d materials may, in cue way and another, get 



116 

worked along through vessels not calculated to circulate 
them, and thus constitute a part of a secreted fluid, I am in- 
clined to think that the sole use of those absorbents which 
open into cavities that contain secreted fluids, is to remove 
those parts of the fluid that are secreted, as we may say, by 
accident. 

We would not maintain that each secreting capillary of 
any organ secretes some o^ all the kinds of materials that en- 
ter into the secreted fluid of such organ ; that is, v/e would 
not maintain that each secreting capillary of the liver, for in- 
stance, secretes a portion of perfect bile, but that one vessel 
secretes one constituent principle of bile, another another 
principle, and so on, and that these different principles com- 
ing together, unite according to their chemical afiinities, and 
form the bile. 

If we say that each vessel pours out a portion of perfect 
hile, we must admit such bile is lormed before it is poured 
out, and it would be more difficult to offer any plausible con- 
jecture how it is formed in individual vessels, than to ad- 
admit that different vessels secrete different principles, which, 
coming toaether in little cavities, unite according to their 
chemical affinities. 

According to the view of secretion now offered, we see 
why one set of vessels secrete one kind of fluid, and another 
another kind ; it is not because their calibres are diflferent, 
and the particles of matter, secreted by different vessels, are 
of different sizes, so as just to fit the calibres of the vessels by 
which they are secreted ; but it is because different sets of 
vessels are endowed, as we may say, with different degrees of 
contractility, and hence are excited into due action by differ- 
ent materials. From this vieiv of secretion we also not only 
see the use of the nerves of the minute vessels, but we shall be 
enabled to show how secretion is influenced by affections of 



117 

the nervous system ; how anger promotes the secretion of 
bile, how fear gives rise to the secretion of a large quantity of 
a limpid urine, &c. &c. 

We have now given a brief, and consequently, imperfect 
sketch of the anatomy arid functions of the involuntary mus- 
cular system. It will be remembered, that what we call the 
muscles of this system are hollow^ contractile organs ; that 
they are not under the control of the will — not excited to 
contract by the cerebral stimulus, but that their natural stimu- 
lus is their contents ; that they do not, like the voluntary 
muscles, receive their nerves directly from the nervous sys- 
tem of animal life, but from the nervous system of organic 
life ; that they are endowed with but a very law degree of 
sensibility, and that they arc organs, not o( relation, h\it ol 
growth and nutrition. 



CHAPTER XL 

On the Relation -which subsists bctzoeen the Muscular and J^er- 
-vous Systems. 

We are now about to enter upon a subject which has inter- 
ested physiologists more, perhaps, than any other one, and 
which is of more importance than one would at first appre- 
hend. It is relative to a point which the learned Dr. Bos- 
tock says may be stated thus : — " When a stimulant acts up- 
on a muscular fibre, so as to produce contraction, does it act 
immediately upon the fibre itself, or does it always act through 
the intervention of a nerve ? The nerves are the organs of 
sensation ; when, therefore, a muscle receives the impression 
of a stimulant, is not th's impression always, in the first in- 



US 

stance, r(^reivecl upon the nervous matter distributed through 
the nnuircle, and the impression then transferred from the 
neive to ihe muscular fibre ?" 

To sa}' that the stimulant or impression acts immediatelt/ 
upon the muscular fibre, would be the same, according to for- 
mer writers, as to answer the following question in the affir- 
mative : — Is the power of the muscular system independent 
of the nervous system ? But to say that stimulants always 
act upon the muscular fibres through the intervention of their 
nerves, would be the same, according to these writers, as to 
say that the power of the muscular system is dependent on the 
nervous system. 

From wh»t is here said, we learn what those who have 
meddled with this subject, mean by the question, — Is the 
power, i. e. the contractility of the muscular system, inde- 
dependent of the nervous system ? They mean, — Does a 
stimulant, when it produces contraction, always act directly 
upon the muscular fibre, or iiidirectlij, as through the medium 
of nerves ? 

Now the question w^hich we shall put, and the negative 
side of which we shall endeavor to establish, we shall put in 
the sam& words, to wit : !s the power ofthe muscular system 
independent of tl^e nervous system ? Still this is not the ques- 
tion about which physiologists have written so much, for we 
do not mean the same by it that they do by theirs, though 
asked in the same words. We do not mean to ask in what 
way a stimulus excites a contraction ; whethei it act directly 
upon {'ac texture which contracts, or through the medium of 
nerves, and of course indirectly ; but we mean by our ques- 
tion this : — Do not themuffcles receive something from the ner- 
vous system by way of their nerves, as they do from the san- 
guineons system by way of their arteries — ivhich something is 
esstutial in making out and sustaining that organization on 



119 

which their ahility to contract depends ? We have Paid that we 
shall endeavor to establish the negative of this question, that 
is, that the}^ do receive something from the nervous system, or 
what is the same thing, that their power is not independent 
of the nervous system. 

It appears that physiologists have been unable to settle the 
question, — Is the power of the muscular system independent 
of the nervous system ? because this question has been asked 
and understood in a wrong sense — in such a sense that if we 
answer it in the affirmative or in the negative, we do not 
state the truth of the matter, for as it respects one part of the 
muscular system, (the vohiniary,) stimulants do act upon the 
muscular fibres through the intervention of nerves ; but as it 
respects the involuntary part, they act immediately upon the 
muscuiai fibres. It seems, also, that they would inquire 
whether nerves are in all cases necessary to muscular contrac- 
tion ; and that they take it for granted, that if they be, they 
act in a certain way ; but on thinking over f^jcts, some physi- 
ologists conclude that they do not act in this certain way, and 
of course conclude that nerves are not necessary to muscular 
contraction in all cases. 1 say it seems that physiologists 
would inquire thus ; but nothing is more obvious than that 
nerves are always necessary in the production of voluntary 
contractions. Hence some physiologists have inquired whe- 
ther nerves are necessary to contractility^ which is quite a dif- 
ferent thing from contraction : contractility is a property^ 
and may exist without contraction, which is an action. 

But how does this question comport with what Bostock 
says is the grand question at issue ? He says (and I believe he 
states the question in the sense in which it is understood even 
by those who query whether conlraciility is independent of 
the nervous system,) that the question is this : '' When a stim- 
ulant acts upon a muscular fibre bO as to produce contraction. 



120 

does it act immediately upon the fibre itself, or does it always 
act through the intervention of a nerve ?" Is this questioning 
whether contractility is independent of the nervous system ? 
May not a muscular iibre be contractile, and may it not re- 
ceive something from the nervous system which enables it to 
be so, even if a stimulant act immediately upon the muscular 
fibre ? If it may, then contractility may be dependent on the 
nervous system, although a stimulus act immediately upon the 
muscular fibre. 

The truth is, those who inquire whether contractility^ and 
not contraction, is independent of the nervous system, would 
be understood to inquire whether a stimulant acts immediately 
upon the muscular fibre, when it excites contraction. Of 
course, if you prove that it does, then you prove to these 
physiologists that contractility is independent of the nervous 
system ; but if you prove that it always acts through the in- 
tervention of a nerve, then you prove to. these physiologists 
that contractihty is dependent on the nervous system. 

Now, as we have said, our question, though asked in the 
same words, is altogether different from this. When we ask 
whether contractility is independent of the nervous system, 
we do not query whether a stimulant always acts immediately 
upon the muscular fibre in exciting contraction, and not 
through the intervention of a nerve ; but we query whether 
muscular fibres receive sometliing from the nervous system 
by w^ay of their nerves, as they do from the sanguineous sys- 
tem by way of their arteries, which is essential in making out 
and maintaining that organization on which their ability to 
contract depends. Thai they do, is what we shall endeavor 
to prove. 

We need not labor to show that all contractile organs, in 
sentient organized beings, are well supplied with nerves. But 
it is doubtful whether the involuntarv muscles receive more 



dr less than tne voluntary, in proportion to the quantify of 
their muscular fibres, and the force with which they contract. 
Should it be proved that the voluntary receive the most, in 
proportion to their power and quantity of muscular tibres, 
we might suppose that this arrangement is necessary, because, 
not only the power of the voluntary muscles is dependent on 
the nervous system, but their stimulus comes from this systenn 
by way of nerves, whereas the stimulus of the involuntary or 
hollow muscles, is their contents. 

We need not labor to show that the nervous organs, the 
brain, spinal cord, &:c. from which the nerves proceed, are 
secreting organs, ht all probability^ and that the nerves con- 
duct otF whatever they secrete. Nor need we labor to make 
physiologists believe that ail natural parts of any magnitude 
in the animal economy are of some use. They will not deny 
but that the nerves going to the involuntary muscles, as the 
heart and circulating vessels, the stomach and bowels, are of 
some use. But as these muscles are not under the control of 
the will — as they are not excited to contract by a stimulus 
brought to them by their nerves, their stimulus being their 
contents, of what use are the nerves going to these muscles ? 

This is what we believe : We believe that the muscular 
system, that is, the whole muscular system, the voluntary part 
as well as the involuntary, is continually receiving something 
from the nervous system by way of its nerv^es, as it is from 
the sanguineous system by way of its arteries, which is essen- 
tially necessary in making out and in maintaining that organ- 
ization on which their contractility depends. This being the 
case, the use of the nerves to the heart, &c. is obvious. 

That which the nervous glands secrete, and which the 

nerves are pretty much continually conveying to the muscles, 

we call the nervous Jimd ; but shall not at present query 

about its nature. 

16 



We do liot suppose, however, but that when a muscle is 
ODce organized so as to be contractile, it may remain contrac- 
tile for a short time, after its connexion with the nervous 
and sanguineous system, one or both is destroyed. There is 
nothing strange in this, and we marvel not at all to see a vol- 
untary or involuntary muscle contract, on the application of 
a stimulus, even hours after separation from the body ; and 
its doing so no more proves that contractility is independent 
of the nervous or sanguineous system, than a store of nuts re- 
maining after the squirrel is dead, proves that it was not ac- 
cumulated by the squirrel. Nay, nor so much so : the store 
of nuts will remain indefinitely, after the squirrel is dead, 
though no special pains be taken to preserve it ; but contrac- 
tility will not remain long after the nervous or sanguineous 
system is destroyed, take what pains you can to preserve it. 
Nevertheless, whatever interrupts the regular tiow of the 
nervous or sanguineous fluids to the muscles, affects^ but not 
instantly destroys^ their contractilitj^ Hence what are com- 
monly called the passions, may influence the powers and ac- 
tions of the involuntary and voluntary muscles, in a way which 
we shall presently point out. 

I know that Dr. Philip, in his " Experimental Inquiry into 
the Laws of the Vital Functions," relates an experiment 
which he thinks shows that the contractility which a muscle 
retains after being separated from the nervous system, is not 
owing to the nervous " influence," as he calls it, which it re- 
ceived prior to the separation. Philip wished to make this 
out, for he was writing a book to prove that contractility is 
an inherent property of the muscular (ibre, and of course not 
dependent on the nervous system. But it appears very clear 
to us, that the experiment shows no such thing ; indeed, al- 
though his principles are quite difTerent from ours, stii), be- 
lieving our principles correct, we should expect, a priori, the 



123 

very phenomenon which he considers as evidence of fhe cor- 
rectness of his principles. Such are the errors we are hable 
to fall into by not thinking of all that relates to any question 
concerning which v/e judge. We shall soon advert to this 
experiment. 

As we maintain that the nervous system secretes a fluid 
which flows, Vv^ith the exception of casual interruptions, con- 
tinually to the muscles, and assists in making out that organi- 
zation on which their contractility depends, it may he proper 
for us to state what parts of the nervous system secrete this 
fluid, and from what parts of it the voluntary and involuntary 
muscles receive their respective supphes. 

The brain, the spinal marn .w, and the ganglions, are the 
parts which we suppose secrete the fluid ; and it is from the 
two former portions that the voluntary muscles receive their 
portion ; but it is highly probable that some of the fluid re- 
ceived by the involuntary muscles is secreted by the brain 
and spinal marrow, and some of it by the ganglions, or *' little 
brains," as they are sometimes called, of the nervous system 
of organic life. 

Some physiologists are not disposed to admit that these 
ganglions secrete any fluid ; but they have quite as much of 
the glandular appearance as the brain or spinal marrow ; 
they are well supplied with arterial blood, and. what is a still 
more important consideration, as we descend the scale of an- 
imal beings, we find that the ganglionic system bears a great- 
er and greater proportion to the animal nervous system ; — 
indeed, in some organized beings, zoophites, perhaps, this 
system alone is to be found, their being neither brain nor 
spinal marrow. Even in the frog tliis system is of so much 
more comparative importance than in man, that one may 
hve, that is, its heart may continue to beat, for nine hours or 
more after its brain and spinal marrow are destroyed ; but we 



124 

j>Tes»ime the heart of a man would not continue to beat nine 
minutes after his brain and spinal marrow sliould be destroy- 
ed. These facts, together with many others that might be 
adduced, not to mention the consideration that the ganglions 
must undoubtedly perform some office, have led me to con- 
clude that they secrete a portion of nervous fluid. True, 
some have thought that their office is to unite the nervous 
fluids coming from the brain and the different parts of the spi- 
nal marrow ; but such an object as this might be fulfilled just 
as well merely by a plexus, for aught we can see ; and more 
than this, the ganglions give off more nerves than come to 
them from the brain and spinal marrow. Indeed, we are not 
sure but it would be as correct to say that the spinal marrow 
arjd brain receive nerves from the ganghons, as to say that 
the ganglions receive them from these organs. 

Let us now consider, more particularly, the relation which 
subsists between the nervous system and the voluntary mus- 
cles. 

Jf these muscles are almost continually receiving from the 
nervous system a flow of flu'd which is essentially necessary 
in making out and maintaining that organization on which 
their power to contract depends, as many facts seem to 
show that they do, then we can find no difficulty in admitting 
that although their contractility may eventually be destroyed 
by dividing their nerves, still this contractility may remain, 
for a time, after their connexion with the nervous system is 
destroyed. I know of no fact, with the exception of one, 
which has been supposed to prove that voluntary muscles do 
not receive something by way of their nerves which is essen- 
tial to their contractility ; this fact is the result of an experi- 
ment which was made by Dr. Philip, and which we referred 
to a page or two back. 

Immediately after having shown that the contractility of the 



125 

yoluntary muscles may be " exhausted," as the common ex- 
pression is, by stimuli operating upon them by way of their 
nerves — stimuh which are applied to the brain or spinal mar- 
row, — he relates to us an experiment which he supposes 
proves that these muscles do not receive any thing from the 
nervous system on which their contractility depends. We 
will state the experiment in his own words, as well as some 
of his remarks relating to it. 

" Experiment 32. All the nerves supplying one of the hin- 
der limbs of a frog were divided, so that they became com- 
pletely paralytic* The skin was removed from the muscles 
of the leg, and salt sprinkled upon them, which being renew- 
ed from time to time, excited contractions in them for twelve, 
minutes ; at the end of which time they were found no longer 
capable of being excited. The corresponding muscles of the 
other limb, in which the nerves were entire, and of which 
consequently the animal had a perfect command, were then 
laid bare, and the salt sprinkled to them in the same manner. 
In Len minutes they ceased to contract, and the animal had 
lost the command of them. The nerves of this limb were 
now divided, as those of the other had been, but the excitabil- 
ity [contractility] of the muscles to which the salt had been 
applied, was gone : its application excited no contraction in 
them. It sometimes happens that iJoMle the nerves of the limbs 
are entire^ the voluntary efforts of the anirw^d prevent the cow 
iractions usually excited by the application of the salt. * * * 

'' It is remarkable, that m this experiment, the excitability 
of the muscles whose nerves were entire, was soonest exhaust- 
ed." 

* Not paralytic because their contractilify was destroyed, t^ut 
because the Vojf could not contract them hiiii'^ell' — h» rau-e lliey 
could not be excited by the stiaiulus of the wUl^ as the ejipres- 
siou is. 



126 

Now what does Dr. Philip infer (rom this experiment? 
Why, he infe-s that the contractility of the muscular system, 
so far from being dependent on the nervous system, or ner- 
vous " influence," is exhausted by it ; because, thinks he, if 
the contractility be dependent on the nervous influence, it 
ought to hold out longest, under the application of the salt, in 
those muscles whose nerves were entire; instead of which it 
was in those ?r.uscles soonest exhausted. But our reasoning 
is this: we say that the nervous fluid and the stimulus of the 
will, or the cerebral stimulus, are two things ; that the first 
flows more or less continually to the muscles, and assists in 
making out ihat organization on which their contractility de- 
pends ; and that the cerebral stimulus may exhaust this con- 
tractility by exciting contractions. Consequently the con- 
tractility of those muscles whose nerves were entire, was 
soonest exhausted, because they were subjected to the opera- 
tion of two stimuli at the same time — the stimulus of the salt 
and the cerebral stimulus ; whereas those whose nerves were 
divided, were wrought upon only by the stimulus of the salt. 

That the muscles whose nerves were entire, were wrought 
upon by the ceVebral stimulus, vi^e are led to believe, not only 
from the consideration that an animal would endeavor to 
move its limb when salt is put upon its bare muscles, but from 
Dr. Philip's statement, — " It sometimes happens that while 
the nerves of the limb are entire, the voluntanj efforts of the 
animal prevent," &c. 

It is said that after a muscle vt^hich is separated from the 
body, has been excited to contract by a mechanical or chemi- 
cal stimulus, until it can be excited to contract no longer, it 
may, after being suffered to rest, be excited again by the san<e 
stimulus ; and this fact has been thought to favor, though not 
to prove correct, the opinion that contractility is independe'nt 
ftf the nervous system. But admitting that such is the fact, 



127 

it is quite'as difficult for the Hallerian to account for it as for 
the neurologist, perliaps more so.* 

The neurologist may say that the muscular fibres have a 
natural capacity for nervous fluid, which fluid is, in all proba- 
bility, the electric fluid, or some modification of it ; and 
when, by the operation of stimulants, they are deprived of 
that portion for which they have an inherent afilinity, if they 
cannot be supplied by the nervous system, they will attract 
it from the air or other surrounding substances, and thus be- 
come again contractile. Or he may deny that the muscles 
fail to contract for want of nervous fluid, and say what the 
Hallerian must say, that by frequently repeated applications 
of a stimulus, the relation which the particles of the fibres have 
a tendency to maintain among themselves is destroyed, and 
that these particles require some time to arrange themselves in 
theirform.er order, so that the fibres may be again contractile. 
When water freezes, we suppose that its particles enter into 
some new arrangement-, but if you keep stirring the water so 
as to give its particles no time to do this, it does not so readi- 
ly become ice. Nothing is more evident than if it were pos- 
sible to keep every individual particle of water changing its 
relations with other particles, the water must remain liquid, 
let it be ever so cold — its particles must have some time to 
arrange themselves so as to form ice. 

This last method of accounting for the fact, that after a 
muscle, separated from the body, is exhausted, it will, if per- 
mitted to rest, become again, in some small degree, contrac- 
tile, appears to me much the most rational. Indeed, I am 

* As Haller (who was the greatest physiologist that flourished 
about the mindle of the last century ) was the first who maintainedj 
with any deiiree of plausibility, that the power of the inu?cular sys- 
tem is independent of the nervous system, those who have since 
adopted ihe same opinion are called Htllerians ; those who niain- 
tam the opposite opinion are called Neurologists. 



inclined to maintain, that in all cases in which a muscle is said 
to become exhausted, it does not part with any one of its prin- 
ciples, oxygen, Rzoie^ nervous Jluid^ or any other ; but that 
by exercise that nice organization on which its contractility 
depends, sntfers an alteration — a sort of mechanical altera- 
tion, as we may say, among its particles. And we may sup- 
pose that in the living system the lymphatics assist in restor- 
ing this nice organization by taking up the misplaced particles, 
while otl;er particles are placed where they ought to be, by 
the nutritive capillaries. 

Many facts will occur to the physiologist in favor of this 
opinion. We talk about the old worn out matter of the sys- 
tem ; but suppose a muscle to be well organized — to be very 
contractile, how in the name of common sense can this con- 
tractility be destroyed, so long as every individual atom of 
matter of which the muscle is composed, retains its precise 
place and relation with the other atoms. The thing is im' 
possible. 

How, too, when you destroy (we will not say exhaust) the 
contractility of the muscles of a limb, merely by touching the 
end of a nerve that goes to these muscles, with a wire— 1 say, 
how do you destroy the contractiliiy by such means ? Do you 
take any thing from the muscle, or do you communicate any- 
thing but an action to it — do you attract the nervous fluid 
from it, or do yon convey electricity to it ? 1 once entertain- 
ed such notions, but 1 found that by touching the nerves go- 
ing to the muscles of a frog's hinder limbs, with a piece of 
glass, long, clean and dry, I excited as strong contractions as 
when 1 touched them with njy pen-knife or any other con- 
ductor of electricity. Indeed, if the nervous fluid intimately 
unite with the other material elements of which the muscular 
fibre is organized, as we suppose it does, it is notyVet, and 



•129 

cantjof be tal<en from it without giving rise to an alteration m- 
some ofils physical properties, say its cohesiveness. 

Matter Is immortal/ At least, matter never wears out ; — - 
there is just as much matter now as there ever was ; and 
when we talk about the worn-out matter of the system, we 
mean the misplaced matter — misplaced by exercise — by the 
system's own "wear and tear." Avid the office of the ab-* 
sorbents is to remove the misplaced matter of our organs. 
Observe, no chemical changes can take place among the con- 
stituent particles of organs without such particles changing 
their places or relations with each other. Observe, too, the 
n>ore you exercise the more sire the absorbents quickened, 
and the more nourishment do you require. 

Are not the absorbents pritjcipally f(Hjnd opening into 
those cavities or upon those surfaces where secreted fluids 
are pointed out, and in those organs winch are liable to suffer 
displacement of particles while performing their functions ? 
Are they not abundant in the contractile part of a muscle ? 
bui can you find even any in a tendon or a bone ? Certainly, 
they are not so plentiful in these last mentioned parts, and 
we see why their office is not so much requiied. Finailyj 
we may venture to lay it down as a prirscipSe, that when the 
contractility of muscles is destroyed by exercise, it is because 
that nice organization on wfiich their contractility depends 
suifers a derangement, and not because any one of their ele- 
mentary principles is exhausted or displaced, more than 
another. 

We have now been laboring, for a few pages, to remove 
what have appeared to some as objections to the opmion, 
that the involuutary muscles receive something from the ner- 
vous system, but for which they would not be contractile. 
But it may be asked if this opinion is to be considered as es- 
tablished when it can be shown that there are no fucis oppos- 

17 



1^0 

ed fo it ? It may be replied, that if this be done, physiologists 
will admit the opinion as correct, for they know of many con- 
siderations which are directly in favor of it, as well as many 
ditiicuhies that attend the opposite opinion. Some of these 
considerations we will advance in this place. 

When the muscles about one side of the mouth are para- 
lytic, the muscles of ihe opposite side draw the lips towards 
the sound side. This paralysis is generally, perhaps always, 
caused by some misaflfection of that part of the nervous sys- 
tem from which, or by which, the palsied muscles receive 
their nervous fluid, when they receive it at all. It may he 
said that this fact does not prove that these muscles have lost 
their contractility, but only their tone. But this would he 
saying something which is not proved, nor can it be proved, 
but by applying mechanical or chemical stimuli to the pal- 
sied muscles, and finding them contractile ; whereas it is ve- 
ry difficult for the physiologist to admit that a muscle may 
lose its tone, or cohesiveiiess, and still be contractile. That 
the muscles should be found contractile, even in those cases 
of apoplexy in which all power of volition is absent, we won- 
der not at all. In these cases, volition is lost, not because 
the nervous fluid ceases to be secreted, but because the dis- 
ease of the brain prevents the cerebral stimulus (be this stim- 
ulus a fluid or an action,) from being communicated to the 
muscles. No voluntary contraction can take place without 
the cerebral stimulus. 

Nor do we doubt that in many cases, even of longstanding, 
of paralysis of the muscles which receive nerves from the 
spinal marrow, they may be found contractile on the applica- 
cation of stimuli : an aflfeclion of the brain or even of nerves 
may prevent the communication of the cerebral stimulus, 
but not the secretion and flow of the nervous fluid. But in 
the case of the paralysis of the muscles of one side of the face, 



131 

in which the antagonist niuscles of the sound side keep the 
mouth constant!}' drawn towards this side, we are very confi- 
dent that these muscles would be found to possess htile or no 
contr ctrlitj. 

Another consideration is, that many affections of the ner- 
vous system, among which we may reckon some of the pas- 
sions, evidently weaken or otherwise affect the muscles them- 
selves, and not the power by which they are excited. Iq 
cases of death by lightning, the muscles are found to have 
lost their contractility. Perhaps this is to be accounted for, 
by supposing that the shock of lightning so deranges the ner- 
vous system as to destroy at once the nerv^ous secretion ; 
whereas, in death from ordinary causes, the nervous secre- 
tion may goon for a time, after the cessation of the conscient 
and motive actions of the nervous system. 

Again — it is admitted by those who maintain that contrac- 
tility is independent of the nervous system, that the nervous 
fluid has an important part to perform in the production of 
secreted fluids. Now can there be any such thing as growth 
or nutrition without secretion ? Is it not strictly correct to 
say that the nutritive capillaries secrete the materials of which 
the'muscles are formed ? and can we suppose that the ner- 
vous influence is essential to the secretion of fluids, and not 
to the growth or organization of the solids ? Is not the em- 
bryo furmslied with nervous influence from the maternal sys- 
tem, until it have a nervous system of its own ? Do not the 
muscles of a youth's limb cease to grow after the nerves go- 
ing to them are destroyed, or perhaps only injured by dis- 
ease or accident ? in short, do we not have abundant reason 
to believe that the nutrition, growth, or organization of a 
muscle, is immediately dependent on the nervous system ? 
If this be admitted, it would be a mere play upon words to 
say that contractility is not immediately dependent on the 



1 32 

nervous system. Need I repeat (hat the contractility of a 
muscle is nothing distinct from the muscle itself, although our 
language vvou.'d seem to represent that it is ? For a muscle to 
be organized in a certain manner, or to be contractiie, or to 
possess contractility, are all one and the same thing. If you ' 
merely compress an organ, you affect its organization ; and,, 
nothing is more true than that there never is an alteration of 
properly without an alteration of organization. 

It is well known that whatever affects the nervous system 
in any great degree, affects the coniraction of the voluntary 
muscles ; but the Hallerians assert that in these cases, the 
affection of the nervous system does not produce this effect 
by increasing or diminishing their coyitraciiliiy^ but by increas- 
ing, diminishing, accelerating, retarding, or in some way or 
other affecting the cerebral stimulus ; and they demand of 
ihe neurologists to prove that it is not so. 

Now this is not so easily proved, directly and conclusive- 
ly, in the case of the volvntary muscles, as in that of the in- 
voluntary. But if it should appear, as \ think it will, that 
the nerves of the involuntary muscles do not, at any time, con- 
vey any thin^ to them which excites them, but are at all times 
conveying something to then) which serves to render them 
excitable or contractile ; 1 say, if this should appear to be the 
fact, it will be a very rational inference that the voluntary 
muscles, also, receive something from the nervous system, 
"which renders them contractile. Hence, I think it will ap- 
pear still more evident, before we get through this chapter, 
that the contractility of the voluntary muscles is dependent 
on the nervous system, than it now does ; although we may 
not labor directly in support of this point. 

Of the cerebral stimulus. Concerning the nature of what 
we have called the cerebral stimulus, we have thought not a 
little. The time was when we supposed it to be of the same 



133 

nature as the nervous fluid : we supposed that (he nervoujS 
fluid flowing into and uniting with the particles of the muscu- 
Jar fihre, gives these particles a disposition to approach each 
other more closely than what the attachments of the muscles 
will admit of; but th^t, when these particles receive an addi- 
tional flow of this fluid, reserved in the brain for the purpose 
(which reserved portion we denominated the cerebral stimu- 
lus,) theii disposition to approach each other is so rnucii in- 
creased that they do so, notwithstanding the powers they must 
overcome in so doing ; — this approaching together of the 
particles of the muscular fibres, constituting muscular con- 
traction. 

We entertained this opinion relative to the cerebral stimu- 
lus, while writing the cliapteron the muscular system, a« njay 
be inferred from a [e.w words there dropped : bu( although it 
appeared to us more plausible thsn any other notion th.jt we 
have ever seen advanced relative to volunlary contractiunj 
sl'll we were not eiitirely satisfied with it : it naturally gave 
rise to many diflicuit questions. We were therefore led to 
reflect more maturely upon the subject, and the facts that 
have occurred to us, have brought us to the conclusion, that 
the voluntary muL-cles are not excited to contract by any ner- 
vous fluid or " infl.ience," as some rail it, hrough^ to ihem hy 
their nerves ; and, consequently, that the term cerebral slim- 
idus, is no more the oame of an agent than the word sensation 
or the word motion. 

We suppose that wh.en any one contracts his riniscles vol- 
untarily, din action, not a fluid — not an agent, proceeds alo-g 
the nerves from the biain to the muscles. We will now ad- 
vance some of our reasons for supposing so. 

First. It is just as conceivable how a conscicnt action of the 
irain, that is, a thought, should excite [be immed'ate'v suc- 
ceeded by] a motive action of the brain, and that thib action 



134 

should continue along down some nervous tract into the mus- 
cles, and be immediately followed by a contraction of the 
muscles, as it is how a conscient action of the brain, or a zvit- 
iing^ if you please, should throw or let off, or cause to be left 
off, a portion of fluid which, keepir^g its right course, goes to 
the muscles, and causes them to contract. 

Second. We knoW that by irritating the lower part of the 
brain, or the spinal marrow, or the nerves going to certain 
muscles, with any hard substance, as a wire or bit of glass, 
we excite contractions. We can excite as many contractions 
by irritating the nerves that go to certain muscles, as we can 
by irritating the spinal marrow from which the nerves pro- 
ceed. Now what fluid do we throw upon, or cause to be 
thrown upon, the muscles, in these cases? Doyou say that 
we cause a fluid contained by the brain, the spinal marrow 
and the nerves, to move along into the muscles ? I say, prove 
your assertion, and sljow us why you cannot excite more con- 
tractions in the same muscles, when you irritate the brain or 
the spinal marrow, than you can merely by irritating the 
nerves — the brain and spinal marrov\^, with all their supposed 
stimulus, being removed. 

Third. If a man apply his ear to the end of a sound stick 
of timber, supported from the ground, (it matters little how 
large or long the stick may be.) while another person very 
slightly scratches the other end as with a pin, the man who 
applies his ear will instantly hear the scratching. This he 
will do, let him apply his ear to whnt part of the end of the 
log he may. Now what are we to suppose in this case ? Can 
we do otherwise than admit that a very slight degree of me- 
chanical force gives rise to an action throughout the whole 
stick of timber ? It either must excite an action among the 
particles that compose the solid matter of the stick, causing 
them, of course, to change their relatious, aiore or less, with 



135 

«arb other ; or it must excite an action of the air which the 
pores of the stick mav be supposed to contain. Some might 
at first think il most probable that the scratching excites an 
action of the air only ; but we have sufficient reason lo con- 
clude, notwithstanding, that the atoms of matter which com- 
pose the stick itself, are put in action. 

This fact shows us what an exceedingly slight degree of 
mechanical force is required to excite atomic actions through- 
out solid bodies ; and it enables us to admit that a certain 
change in some part of the brain may be followed, as an ef- 
fect, by a change or action of some other part, and this again 
by a change all along down a nerve into a muscle, and then 
be followed by a contraction of the muscle. 

It is maintained, and generally, perhaps universally, ad- 
mitted by philosophers, that the grosser atoms of the most 
dense, hard and compact bodies, do not absolutely touch 
each other, but that space, or some very subtile fluid, as ca- 
loric or electricity, intervenes. And this opinion appears to 
be countenanced by the fact, that in many bodies atomic ac- 
tions may be excited without much more mechanical force 
being communicated to the body than what would seem ne- 
cessary to move one of its separate particles. 

It appears that what we call a body of matter, is a little 
world of atoms, and that, in many instances, if you commu- 
nicate force enough to one or more of these atoms to move 
them, these atoms communicate it to others, and so on, some- 
thing as bodies act upon bodies. This being the case, we 
need not marvel that such slight force is necessary to excite 
atomic actions in some bodies. 

Now we cannot tell by the appearances of bodies, whether 
their atoms be so arratiged that they will communicate ac- 
tions among themselves or not ? nor indeed do we know but 
that an imperceptible atomic action takes place in all bodies 



when any thina" tourhps them. Iffacfs seem to shou'- that an 
atomic action lake? place in any body, it becomes us to admit 
th:it it does, although we might judge from the appearances 
of such bodies, that it would not. 

Who would judge, on looking upon a stick of timber, th;^t 
an atomic action may be excited throughout its whole extent, 
merely bv a very slight scratch of a common dressing pin ? 
Who would jud^e. on examining the optic nerves and brain, 
th it an atomic action may be excited in them by a few rays 
of light falluig upon (he retii^.as ? Who would judge that an 
inconceivably slight action of the brain may give rise to an 
action all along down the spinal marrow ? Yet such appear 
to be the facts. Howeve'', in order that atomic actions may 
take place in bodies, it is necessary that the atoms be in cer- 
tain relations with each other; if they be too far apart or too 
near together, these actions will not take place, at least, not 
exactly as thpy otherwise would. If you crack a bell, it will 
not sound as before ; divide the nerve? going to a voluntary 
muscle, and the atomic action of the uppei- portion will not 
continue on into the loner portion ; hence the muscle is no 
longer under the control of the will. On the other hand, if 
you compress a nerve so as to bring its atoms ?oo near to- 
gether, you interrupt the atomic actions of the nerve., and in 
this wi^y destroy volition. Nevertheless, if I mistake not, 
there are some pathological facts which see n to show that 
tiip nervous fluid may pass along a. divided nerve, if the divi- 
ded ends be in apparent contact.* 



^ Sinrp wri'iiig Jhn ab've. I have (iisrovpred the follovi'in^ pas- 
sare if* Bostofk's Phyi^iolojTv, vol. f, p 'iOi. " Does in>t thecurioris 
ffict ivhi.h hHs been rstahlishecl in the iate controversy respf^ct-tig 
thn efiVct of'diviijins^ ihf eit'^hth p^ir of nerves, that the nervous iii- 
flueiice may Up tr^nsmitred n\or\o a divider! nerve, even when the 
pans are ontfuurtli of au inch asuuder, afford a direct argument 



137 

It must he remembered, that when one event immediat.ly 
follows another, we cannot explain how or zohy ; for, to ex- 
plain the connexion between two events, or to explain why 
one event follows another, is but to point out intervening 
events, showing in what order these intervening events oc- 
cur. But when two events occur in immediate succession, 
there are no intervening events to he pointed out, and we can 
only say that the one follows the other, because such is the 
law of nature. Supposing the moving body A strike against 
the body B, and put B in motion — we cannot explain why A 
should put B in motion by striking against it ; but if B move 
on and knock down the body C, and it be asked why the mo- 
tion of A is followed by the falling of C, the answer, the ex- 
planation, is, because A put B in motion, and B struck C. 
Here we see that between the motion of A, which is one 
event, and the motion of C, which is another event, there is 
an intervening event, the motion of B, to be pointed out ; of 
course an explanatory answer to the question, why is the n»o- 
tion of A followed by the fall ot C ? may be given. So if a 
certain action of the brain be immediately succeeded by an- 

agaiiisi the idea of this iiitiiieiice depending upcni the pHssage of a 
subtile fluid P See Quart Joiirn. v. xi p. ,'325 and v. xi. p 17." 

We may rennark, that it has no« been shown that the cfrebml 
stimulus may pass along a divided nerve ; but that the power of 
the stomach to digest — to secrete a prope-r gastric fluid — is destroy- 
ed by dividing the nerves which gf> to it, and placing the divided 
ends at considerable distance from each other ; but thatif ihe di- 
vided ends are p!a< ed not over one fourth of an inch asunder, this 
power is n< t destroyed. We may furthermore remark, tha' this 
fact is an argument for, and not against the idea, that the tirrvous 
it'Jlue.ure (not the cerebral stimulus,) is a fluid instead of an ac- 
tion. — We have good reason to suppose that the nervous influence 
or fluid, is the electric, or some nutdification of it ; and we know 
that the electric fluid will pass along a divided conductor, if ti)e di- 
vided ends be one-tourth ot an inch asuruJer ; but as Bostock says, 
the solution of continuity of a nerve, " must cert, inl^ jMit an eflec- 
tual barrier to the propagation of the vibratory or oscillatory action. 

16 



155 

♦thcr action of the brain, we cannot explain why j antMf sfti 
action of the brain be immediaiely follovied by an action of a 
nerve, as its effect, we cannot explain why ; and if a certain 
action of a nerve be imnnediately succeeded by a contraction 
of the muscle to which it is distributed, we cannot explain 
why. And if any one ask why ? he shows at once that he 
does not suppose these actions to follow in immediate suc- 
cession, but that there are some intervening events to be 
sought after. But if it be a^ked why a certain action .of the 
brain is followed by a contraction of a muscle, we can say 
that the action of the brain gives rise to an action ofa nerve, 
and the action of the nerve exrife? an action of the muscle. 
This would be explairsing the phenomenon or contraction, as 
%\ell as the present state of our knowledge enables us to do ; 
and it is, perhaps, as complete an explanation as we give to 
the question, why is the motion of A succeeded by the fall of 
C? 

It is true (hat in ca?es of muscular contraction, there is, as 
ive may say, a generation of force ; but this is owing to the 
contractility of the muscle. Were there no such generation 
of force, we should have no reason to say a muscle is con- 
tractile, nor should we call that a stimulus, which mi^ht force 
the ends ofa muscle nearer to each othfr, anymore than we 
call that a stimulus which may force the ends ofa piece of 
caoutchouc nearer to each other. 

We do not suppose that nerves vibrate when they commu- 
nicate actions from one part to another, any more than v^e 
suppose that a stick of timber vibrates when one end is slight- 
ly scratched with a pin ; but that the particles or atoms of 
the nerves change more or less their relations with each oth- 
er. We prefer calling this action of the atoms an atomic ac- 
Hon, to calling it a vibratory action, for we would express no 
conjecture of the way and manner in which the atoms act. 



139 

whether they move to and fro, up and down, or turn on their- 
own axis. 

Fourth. Most of those who apparently believe that an agent 
passes from the brain to the muscles in case of vohintary 
contraction, suppose this agent to be the common electric flu- 
id, or sorrje modiliciition of it. Now it is well known that the 
electric and galvanic fluids pass through the most compact* 
bodies with quite as much focihty as the more porous ; bu6 
only compress a nerve a little, and the muscle to which the 
nerve is distributed cannot be excited by the will. This fact 
favors the opinion that it is an action, and not an agent, that 
passes from the brain to the muscles when voluntary contrac- 
tions are excited ; for this compression is much more likely 
to arrest an imperceptible atomic action of the nervous trunk 
than to arrest a fluid anj thing like the electric. And should 
the experiment he tried, we doubt not but that it would be 
found that the electric or galvanic fluid will pass a compres- 
sed or divided nerve as readily as cue that ig not divided od 
compressed. 

Fifth. After the brain and upper part of the spinal marrow 
have been removed or destroyed, you may, by woundmg the 
muscles of one of the hinder limbs of the animal, excite con- 
tractions of the muscles of the other hinder limb. In thit 
case it appears to us much more reasonable to suppose that 
you excite an action of the nerves of the muscles which you 
wound, and that this action runs along up the nerves into the 
spinal marrow, and from thence down the nerves of the other 
limb, than it does to suppose that you cause any portion of 
fluid to run up the iierves of one limb and down the nerves 
of the other. U is no uncommon thing for a nervous action 
to continue up some nervous tract and excite an action in, or 
communicate an action to, some other nervous tract which 
may run either up or down. Some instances of what physi- 



cians call sympathy, are to be accounted for in this way.— 
When muscles are contractile, all that seems necessary to 
cause them to contract, is a certain action (no matter by what 
means excited.) of the nerves that go to them. Thoughts and 
sensations are as far from being esstntiallij necessary to mus- 
cular contraction, as a galvanic trough. 

It is well known that the eleclric and galvanic fluids are the 
best chemical (or perhaps we may as well say mechanical) 
agents that we can use for exciting contractions of the volun- 
tary muscles. This fact is one that I thought of when 1 con- 
cluded that the cerebral stimulus is a fluid ; but it only proves 
that the electric and galvanic fluids are powerful excitants of 
that action of the nerves which is excited by certain conscient 
actions of the brain, and by many chemical and mechanical 
agents. 

Perhaps mechanical and chemical agents may excite con- 
tractions by operating directly upon the muscular fibre ; we 
can only say we knoio that they may excite contractions by 
operating through the medium of nerves. 

The reader will remember that the question, whether or no 
these agents ever excite contractions by operating directly 
tipon the muscular fibre, is the one about which physiologists 
have disputed so much ; supposing all the while, that they 
were disputing whether the contractility or power of the 
muscular system is independent of the nervous system. 

Sixth. We cannot believe that any invisible fluid or " in- 
fluence" passes into the very texture of the involuntary mus- 
cles, and causes them to contract, when they are excited, as 
Tve say, by their cot)tents. 

The preceding are some of the considerations which lead 
us to conclude that the cerebral stimulus is not a fluid, but an 
action. 

Whether the nerves going to the voluntary muscles contain 



!41 

a fluid which does not move along in them, when these mus- 
cles are excited to contract ; but which is the immediate seat 
of the atomic actions about which we have been speaking, 
we would not stop to inquire. For, if they do, such fixed 
fluid is as much a part of the nerve itself, as any other, and 
the question no more concerns us, than it does whether the 
nerves contain any sulphur, azote, oxygen, or any other par* 
ticular material. We may remark, however, that there is 
nothing in favor of the opinion that the nerves possess any 
such fixed fluid, which is the medium by which actions are 
transmitted from the brain to the muscles. 

If the cerebral stimulus be nothing other than an action of 
the nervous system, we may be asked why we give the action 
this name ? We answer, it is for coiivenience sake— the only- 
reason we have forgiving any thing a name. It is conveniesit 
to have a name to distinguish that which is (he cause o^vol- 
untary contractions from those agents or actions which are 
causes of involuntary contractions. And as the immediate 
and invariable antecedent, or cause o{ voluntary coniractions^ 
(we do not say contractions of voluntary muscles,) is a nervous 
action which undoubtedly commences in the brain — perhaps 
in that part of it called cerebrum ; and as all physiologists 
agree to call every thing a stimulus which excites muscular 
contractions, we call the cause of voluntary contractions the 
cerebral stimulus. 

It must be remembered that we do not say the nervous 
system is sensibe because those actions take place in it which 
immediately and invariably precede voluntary contractions. 
We suppose that two kmds of actions, essentially different 
from each other, take place in ihe nervons system — conscicnt 
actions and motive actions ; and that the conscient actions 
constitute our sensations and thoughts, whereas the motive 
actions, though often excited by the conscientj may occur 



U-2 

"Without any ronsciousnes?; whatever. These are the actions 
tvhich immediately precede voluntary contraf.tioiis. 

It is true, a sensation generally attends voluntary contrac- 
tions, but we consider this a consequence of the contraction, 
and not a necessary or invariable antecedent. — We suppose 
that the motive actions of ihe nervous system give rise to mus- 
cular contractions, and as there are sentient nerves in or 
about the muscles, the contractions excite conscient actions 
in such sentient nerves. The muscles would contract if 
there were no sentient nerves distributed to them. 

I would add, in this place, that all (he spinal nerves have 
a double origin, a posterior and anterior root, and that, by di- 
rect experiment, it is proved that the muscles to which these 
nerves are sent, are rendered paralytic and insensible respect- 
ively, according as the anterior or posterior roots are divided. 
Hence it is proved that the voluntary muscles receive two 
kinds of nervous fibrils, motive and sentient. The motive 
nerves communicate actions from the brain to the muscles 
which are the immediate and ijivariable antecedents ofvol- 
lantary contractions. The sentient are those in which con- 
scient actions are excited by impressions upon their organic 
extremities. 

We now proceed to a more particalar consideration of the 
relation which subsists between the involuntary muscles and 
the nervous system. 

Our opinion is that, like the voluntary, the involuntary mus- 
cles receive a fluid from the nervous system which is one 
thing essential to that organization, which is but another word 
for their power, or contractility. 

The following are some of the principal considerations di- 
rectly in favor of this opinion. 

Fiist. T e involuntary muscles are well supplied with 
j^erves which must be sui)posed to have some oliice to per- 



140 

form in the ordinary operations of the animal macliinp ; and 
it is pretty clear that they do not communicate a stimuhis to 
these muscles, for these muscles are not under the control 
cf the will, hut are excited hy their contents. 

Second. It is probable that the brain, spinal marrow and 
ganglions, secrete a fluid which is conducted off by the nerves, 
biit which is not a stimulus, either to the voluntary or invol- 
untary muscles. 

Third. Affections of the nervous system influence the in- 
voluntary, as well as voluntary muscles, as indicated by aa 
alteration of their actions. Every body knows how the ac- 
tion of the heart, for instance, is influenced by the passions. 

Fourth. By destroying the coruiection between these mus- 
cles and the nervous system, you destroy, though ndt instant- 
ly, their contractility. 

Fifth. Secretion is undoubtedly a function of minute mus- 
cular organs, and this function is destroyed in proportion as 
)ou destroy the connection between their organs and the 
nervous glands, or in proportion as you destroy these glands 
themselves. 

Sixth. It is proved that what goes from the nervous system 
to the stomach and enables its capillary vessels to secrete the 
gastric fluid, is not an action, and as we know it is not a solid 
nor a liquid, it must of course be a fluid. 

Lastly. We know of no fact opposed to this opinion. 

We know, however that physiologists have disputed wheth-^ 
@r nerves, or nervous influence, are essentially necessary to 
muscular contraction, thinking all the time that they were 
disputing w'lether muscular cvniractiliiy is independent of 
the nervous system. To such physiologists there are some 
facts which appear to be opposed to the opinion that the 
power of the muscular system is dependent on the nervous 
system : and there may be some facts which will appear, t* 



144 

some, to be opposed to our opinion of the relation between 
the involuntary muacles and the nervuus system. But — 

The fact that muscles remain in some degree contractile, 
for some time after separated from the nervous system, does 
not militate against our opinion in the least, as we have be- 
fore said.* 

The fact that foetuses have been born with hearts beating, 
but without a brain or spinal marrow, weighs very little in- 
deed against us, until two things be shown : first, that such 
foetuses have no nervous system of organic life ; second, that 
the foetus, which is as much a part of the maternal system as 
any other, until separated from it, does not receive a nervous 
fluid from this system — Pretty certain it is, notwithstanding 
all that has been said to the contrary, that some of the marks 
and deformities of foetuses are caused by affections of the 
mother's nervous system ; and this fact is no more inexplica- 
ble than the fact that children often resemble their parents, 
or the fact that animals propagate their own species instead 
of some other species. — By the by, I wonder some of our 
profound thinkers have not denied that animals propagate 
their species, for the good reason that they cannot explain 
the fact! 

The fact that the involuntary muscles are not very sensi- 
ble, argues nothing against our opinion ; it only shows that 
they possess but few sentient nerves. It is rather in favor of 
our opinion, for if they were very sensible, it might, with the 
more propriety, be said that the u.^e of their nerves is to ren- 
der them sensible. 

The fact that the contractile texture is to be found in some 
zoophiles and some vegetables, in which no traces of a ner- 
vous system can be seen, proves nothing, only *' that the 

^ Seepage 101. 



145 

great Aulnor or ii?iv.ire is the lord, and not the slave, of his 
own laws." The question is not, what may 6e, but what i& ; 
the question is not whether a contractile texture may be or- 
ganized without the intervention of a nervous system ; but 
whether, in animals (in which, for good and wise purposes, 
the several parts are so intimately united that what affects 
one part affects another,) this texture is organized and kept 
in repair without the intervention of the nervous system. 

Dr. Philip, a writer well known to gentlemen of the medi- 
cal profession, has performed many experiments on rabbits 
and frogs, to determine the relation which subsists between 
the nervous and muscular systems, and the ultimate conclu- 
sion to which he arrives, is, that the power of voluntary and 
involuntary muscles is independent of the nervous system ; 
but that these muscles may be influenced through, or by, the 
nervous system. 

Now we know that the voluntary muscles are under the 
direct influence of the nervous system; it is from this systenn 
that they derive their stimulus ; and it is conceivable (though 
not probable) that the voluntary muscles may be independ- 
ent of the nervous system, as respects their power, and yet be 
influenced tlirough this system. But as to the involuntary 
muscles, which are excited by their contents, which are not 
under the control of the will, and which cannot be excited to 
contract by mechanical or chemical agents applied to their 
nerves, it is very diflicult to admit that they are independent 
of the nervous system, and yet influenced through it. It is 
what no man will admit, if the facts which led Dr. Philip to 
this conclusion can be rationally accounted for upon some 
other principle. 

Dr. Philip himself appears to have been aware of this diffi- 
culty. After relating two sets of experiments, the first of 

which he thinks " proves that the power of the heart and ves- 

19 



He 

sels of circulation is independent of the brain and spinal mar- 
row ; and the second, '' (hat the action of the heart and ves- 
sels of circulation may be influenced by agents applied either 
to the brain or spinal marrow,'*' — he remark^ : — 

" If it be said that the results of these experiments imply 
a contradic*ior\, that we cannot suppose the power of the 
heart and vessels to be wholly independent of ihe brain and 
spinal marrow, and yet influenced by stimuli applied to them, 
the reply is, such are the facts, of the truth of which any one 
may easily sali-fy himself. 

*' On a closer ( xamination of the phenomena of the ner- 
vous system, we shall find other similar difficultfes."* 

We will endeavor to show how unsatisfactory is the con- 
clusion, that (he involuntary muscles are independent of, buf 
may be influenced through, the nervous system. 

First, The power of these muscles being independent of 
the nervous system, and the'w usual, if not the\r only, stimulus 
being also independent of this sys(em, we would ask, how 
their actions can be infliienced by affections of the nervous 
system ? How, for instance, can fear increase the ac(ion of 
the heart ? Does it stimulate the heart, extraordinarily, by 
exciting an action which thrills along (he nerves into the 
heart ? Does it cause a portion of nervous fluid to be thrown 
upon the heart ? It would appear that Dr. Philip supposes a 
portion of fluid, or " influence,'' as he calls it, is thrown up- 
on the heart. But if the nerves which go to the heart are 
capable of conducting oif the nervous fluid, during the exist- 
ence of fear, what prevents the fluid from flowing to the heart 
at any time ? We presume (hat Dr. Phlip would not admit 
that the nervous fluid is continually flowing to the heart, for, 
according to his principles, it can, in ordinary cases, have 
nothing to do after arriving; there. 

* Philip's « iuquiry into the Ldws," 6cc. p. 92. 



147 

Second. It is admitted on all hands, that the proper stim- 
ulus of the heart is the blood ; now can we adcnit that the 
heart or Siny other muscular organ has two natural stimuli, so 
diiFerent as the blojd and nervous fluid apparently are^ — stim- 
uli, too, which excite only one and the same kind of action ? 

Third. If that action constituting fear may throw a por- 
tion of nervous fluid upon the heart, why may not that action 
which constitutes a willing, do the same. Dr. Philip has at- 
tempted to show why the involiuitary muscles, are involunta- 
ry ; but what he says appears to us to amount to no more 
than this : — The voluntary muscliis are involuntary because 
they are involuntary. 

Fourth. According to Philip's conclusion, about which we 
are now speaking, the grand q lestion which weighs so heavily 
against the opinion of the independent power of the heart, 
does not appear to be satisfactorily answered. Of what use 
are the nerves of the heart ? This is the question, and Dr. 
Philip finds no use for thern except on extraordinary occ^a- 
sions, except during the existence nf tho. passions. His 
words are : — ''The heart is supplied with nerves, and sub- 
ject to the influence of the passions, because, although inde- 
pendent of the nervous system it is capable of being influen- 
ced through it."* 

This is the sum and substance of all he has to ofTer in any- 
place in answer to the question, of what use are the nerves of 
the heart ? But is this satisfactory ? The sense of the sen- 
tence may be expressed as follows : 

The heart is independent of the nervous system ; but is 
subject to the influence of the passions, because it is supplied 
with nerves. 

The clause, "it is capable of being influenced through it," 

*Fhilip's "luquiry," p. Uh 



148 

i. e. through the nervous system, may be omitted without any 
injury to the sense of the sentence ; for if the heart be " sub- 
ject to the influence of the passions," it must of course be 
" capable of being influenced through the nervous system.-' 
And we may further add, that the passions are the only in- 
stances in which the nerves of the heart perform any func- 
tion, according to Dr. Philip. 

It is true that the action of the heart may be influenced 
by mechanical or chemical stimuli applied to the nervous 
system ; but no one will pretend that it is ?i function of the 
Derves of the heart, to influence its action, in these cases. 

On the whole, Dr. Phihp tells us that the heart is influen- 
ced by the passions, because it is supplied with nerves ; but 
lie does not show that the nerves of the heart are of any use 
but to subject this organ to the influence of the passions. As 
to there being any use in this, so far as we can see, there is 
r\o\)e at all : — it appears to be one of those incidental circum- 
stances which, in many instances, occur under the present 
order of nature, and which men call evil. 

Furthermore, it is contrary to all reason and analogy to 
suppose that we have organs which perform no office in the 
ordmary operations ofoursystems — organs, too, which, when 
they do perform their supposed functions, bring about nothing 
new, but only accelerate or retard accustomed actions, which 
are frequently accelerated or retarded by other means. — It 
is well known that the action of the heart is increased by ex- 
ercise as well as by the passions ; but who would think of as- 
cribing the increased action of the heart, in this case, to any 
action of the nerves of the heart ? Is it not owing to an in- 
creased flow of blood towards the heart, or to some obstruc- 
tion (in the lungs) to the free circulation of the blood from 
the lungs — one or both ? 

Passing strange it must be, that the heart and muscular 



149 

coat of the intestines are supplied with nerves, that a man 
may have a httle bit of a palpitation, or a little bit of a diar- 
rhoea in case he chance to be fiightened ! 

We have now offered several considerations in favor of the 
opinion that the contractility of the involuntary muscles is 
dependent on the nervous system. We have also endeavor* 
ed to remove what might appear to some as objections to this 
opinion ; and we have shown how ui. satisfactory is the con* 
elusion, that the involuntary muscles are independent of, but 
may be influenced through, the nervous system. 

We now proceed to show in what way the action of the heart 
and other invnluntiiry muscular orgar^s may be influenced by 
the passions ; admitting that the contractility of these organs 
is dependent on the nervous system, and that they receive no 
STIMULUS byway of their nerves. 

We suppose that the nervous glands secrete a fluid which 
flows to a// the involuntary muscular organs — not excepting 
the minutest capillary vessels ; and that the contractility of 
these organs depends on this nervous fluid. Hence whatever 
interrupts the secretion of the nervous fluid, lowers, as we may 
say, the contractility of these organs. This being done, the 
stimability of their contents proves too high for their con- 
tractility ; they are stimulated by such contents to a higher 
degree than they can bear without increased action ; (we all 
know that a frequent pulse is a sign of weakness) ; the capil- 
laries are excited to contract, (and the sum of all their capa- 
cities is very great) ; this contraction of the capillaries forces 
the fluids upon the heart, aud thus we have a triple cause for 
the increased action of the heart ; first, an increased discrep- 
ancy between its contractility and the stimability of the 
blood ; second, an increased quantity of blood (its proper 
stimulus) forced upon it by the contraction of the ca[)illaries5 
tvhich may, with much propriety, be called the heart-s autag- 



150 

onist ; third, obsfruciion to the free circulation of the blood, 
through the lungs, out of the heart's way, ** as a body may 
say." 

But what, it is time to ask, suppresses the secretion of the 
nervous fluid, in the sound state of the system, and thus de- 
stroys the proper balance between the contractility of the cir- 
culating vessels and the stimability of their contents ? We an- 
swer, the passions, or at least, some of the passions. Fear, 
for instance, is a peculiar, intense, conscient action of the 
brain, which is incompatible, as we may say, with ;he secre- 
tory action of this organ, and as the several parts of the ner- 
vous system act in conciirrenrR, fppr, by suppressing the se- 
cretory action of the brain, suppresses it throughout the 
whole nervons system. Hence, in case of fear, the man is 
weak, his countenance is pale, his heart flutters, and often 
much limpid urine is secreted. 

Much limpid urine is secreted, because the contractility of 
the secreting capillaries of the kidnies is brought down to a 
due relation v\ith the stimability of such urinary matter. The 
countenance is pale, because (he contractility of many of the 
capillaries of the face, which usually admit the red globules 
of the blood, is so much reduced, that these globules prove 
too stimulating for them — they cause the vessels to contract 
upon them, and shut tliem out. 

Anger, on the other hand, is a peculiar, intensf , conscient 
action of the nervous system, which appears to increase the 
i>ervous secretion. There is no sense of weakness about a 
man in anger ; the contractility of his capillary vessels is so 
raised that matty of them stand in due relation with the red 
blood, which, before, circulated only colourless fluids ; hence 
the countenance is flushed in ariger ; but we presume that 
the action of the heart is never increased immediately and di- 
rectly by this passion alone. Yet we may find, peihaps, that 



151 

in most ca^es of anger, the action of the heart is somewhat 
acceierated ; but we may find that in these cases, the action 
of the heart was quickened by some cause, previous to the 
anger, or that it is increased by exercise during the anger, or, 
what is still more probable, we may find that fear, or some 
such like passion, accompanies the anger. Men when angry 
often think of taking revenge, but ihey f par the consequen- 
ces — they ftar to grapple ; they turn pale and tremble ; 
then, undoubtedly, the heart flutters. 

In order to prove that anger, alone, does, in a direct man- 
ner,, accelerate the action of the heart, it must be shown that 
this unmingled passion excites the heart independent of the 
exercise of him in whom the anger occurs. We all know 
that a man sitting still, with a calm circulation, may have 
the action of his heart accelerated by some noise, or visible 
object, which may excite sudden and intense fear, or fright, 
as it is sometimes called ; but I am inclined to think that the 
action of the heart is never accelerated by pure anger, under 
such circumstances. 

But supposing it should be found that the unmingled pas- 
sion, anger, may accelerate the action of the heart in as di- 
rect a manner as the passion called fear ; it would not de- 
stroy our hypothesis to its lowest foundation. — We say that 
the contractility is increased^ diminiffhed^ lowered, Szc, but we 
use these terms for the want of better. It would be as well, 
perhaps, not to spin out our hypothesis any fiirther than to 
say — the passions influence the actions of the circulating or- 
gans, by destroying the due relation, or proper balance, be- 
tween their contractility and the stimability of their contents. 

This view of ihc subject reconciles many ditticulties ; it 
shows us how the heart, the countenance, the secretions, &:c. 
may be influenced by the passions, although the hollow mus- 
cles are not under the control of the will— although they re- 



252 

ceive no stimulushy way of the nervous system. But Philip 
has not shown, satisfactorily, how this can be — he has not 
even shown, satisfactorily, why the involuntary muscles are 
involuntary. He says : — 

" We can surely be at no loss to account for the action of 
these muscles being involuntary, when we know that they are 
all exposed to the constant or constantly renewed action of 
stimuli, over which the will has no power. Besides, the ac- 
tion of these muscles produces no sensible effect. We will 
to move a limb, not to excite a muscle. We wish to handle, 
for example, and on trial find that we can move our fingers ; 
but what act of volition can we perform through the medium 
of the heart or blood vessels ? If we had no wish to handle, 
the muscles of the fingers of course would never become sub- 
ject to the will. It deserves to be remarked, that the will in^ 
fiuences the ret turn and bladder, the only internal organs 
which can assist in accomplishing an end desired.""^ 

We here see that Dr. Philip gives us two reasons for the 
hollow muscles being involuntary; first, '' they are exposed 
to the constant or constantly renewed action of stimuli^ over 
which the will has no power." Second — '' the action of 
these muscles produces no sensible effect." Let us first ex- 
amine his first reason. 

The hollow muscles are involuntary, because " they are all 
exposed to the constant or constantly renewed action of stim- 
uli, over which the will has no power." This is as much as 
to say : the will has no power over the 5//ww/t of the hollow 
muscles ; therefore, it has no power over the muscles them- 
selves. This being true, we might expect that if a man's 
stomach, heari, blood vessels, &c. should only be empty at 
any time, every thing else remaiiting the same, he might con- 

* Inquiry, p. 1j8. 



153 

tract them at pleasure I for — Philip's second reason is a false 
statement. It is this : " The action of these organs produces 
no sensible efTect." 

We all know that the action of the heart does produce a 
" sensible effect," in the common sense of the expression ; 
but it may be said, that the Doctor would attach some pecu- 
liar meaning to the expression. Hence it is necessary to ex- 
amine attentively what follows the expression in the place it 
is used. On doing this we find, that if the Doctor would at- 
tach any peculiar meaning to the expression, " sensible ef" 
feet," he would be understood to mean the same by it as by 
" an end desired." 

But suppose I wish my pulse to beat 130 strokes in a min- 
ute, or only 30 strokes in the same length of time, that my phy- 
sician may think me a very sick man, requiring his best atten- 
tion — would not this be " an end desired ?" And could I ac- 
complish it, would it not be a " sensible effect ?" as strictly 
so as any other? 

" We will," says the Doctor, Mo move a limb, and not to 
excite a muscle." But why this talk ? — If an anatomist 
should will to contract his or^fcw/am om muscle, instead of 
wilhng to pucker his lips, could he not do it ? But in this 
case the wish would be " to excite a muscle," and not '* to 
move a limb." 

The Doctor say? — " If we had no wish to handle, the mus- 
cles of the fingers of course would never become subject to 
the will." Does the Doctor mean by this as much as to say, 
the make of a man depends upon the wishes he may chance 
to have after he is made ! 

Finally, the Doctor's reasons for the heart and blood ves- 
sels being involuntary, amount to this : — We can perform no 
act of volition, that is, no voluntary act, With ihu heart or 

"20 



154 

blood vessels, because, forsooth, " what act of volition can wc 
pel form by the heart or blood vessels?" 

But it nvAy be asked, fvhat reasons zue have to offer for the 
involuntary nnuscles being irivoluntary ? Two or three verj 
rational, yea, very probable, sup[)ositions nnav be offered. 

We may suppose that ihe nerves of these organs do not, 
like nerves of the voluntary muscles, have that direct connex- 
ion with the seiisorium [that part of the brain which thinks,] 
which is necessary in order that motive actions may be exci-^ 
ted in them, by conscient actions of this part of the brain. 

Second, Anatomists know that (heparvagum and all other 
nerves distributed to the hollow muscles, '' differ from the 
other nerves in the disposition of their fibres, which, instead 
of being straight and parallel, are irregularly connected to 
each other and twisted together,"* Hence it is probable 
that they are not in themselves capable of communicating 
such actions from the brain to the muscles, as the nerves of 
the voluntary muscles are. We know that we cannot cause 
the hollow muscles to contract by irritating, by mechanical 
or chemical agents, the nerves which go to them. 

Third. The organization of the hollow muscles is sufficient- 
ly different from that of the voluntary, to account for their not 
being excitable by the same means, Tiie voluntary muscles 
are excited by the cerebral stimulus ; the heart is excited by 
the blood ; and if the cerebral stimulus should be communi- 
cated to -he heat, and a contraction of the heart should not 
follow, we should no more wonder than we should rf the vol- 
untary muscles should contract on having a few ounces of 
blood poured upon them. 

We have now shown in what way we suppose the passions 
itifluence the actions of the hollow muscular organs, and why 

'^ Bostock'is Physiology, vol. 1, p. Ib9 j Boston edit. 1825, 



155 

these organs cannot be excited by those conscient actions of 
the brnin which constitute what we call a desire, or willing. 
But something more must be said in defence of the opinion, 
that the passions influence the action of the heart, &lc, in the 
way and manner vYhich we have pointed out. 

Perhaps, in point of weight, the first seeming objection to 
this opinion that may be brought, is the short space of time 
that passes between the commencement of the passioo and 
its apparent influence on the hollow muscles. We have 
maintained that the nervous influence enters into the organi- 
zation of the muscular fibre, and is one of its essential princi- 
ples, as much so, as any thing brought to it by the arteries ; 
and that the muscular fibre being once organized so as to be 
contractile, may, as we know, remain, in some degree, con- 
tractile even for hours after separated from the nervous sys- 
tem. Now if the ordinary actions of the minute vessels and 
other muscular organs, are so dependeiit on a punctilious sup- 
ply of nervou* fluid, that these actions are altered when this 
supply is withheld for a few moments ; some, may wonder 
that these organs remain at all contractile, for hours, after 
cut off from this supply. — We will now endeavor to remove 
all doubts arising from this score. 

In the first place, a man does not turn pale, and the action 
of his heart is not accelerated the iiistant the passion fear, for 
instance, is excited. — Fright is an intense fear, suddenly and 
unexpectedly excited. Now I know (for I have thought to 
notice immediately the occasion,) that I am often frightened, 
and the fright is all over, without any increased action of the 
heart. But it may be said that such persons as are called 
nervous, feel a sort of thrilling sensation throughout the sys- 
tem the very instant they are frightened, and that many a 
<^ue experiences this sensation when a horse trips which he if 



156 

riding, and which he has learnt by experience is apt to stum- 
ble. 

This we grant, but this instant sensation does not prove 
that the person instantly turns pale, or that the action of his 
heart is instantly accelerated ; nor does it in any degree prove 
that in other cases of passion, the action of the heart, &c. is 
altered by means of a conscicnt action extending along cer- 
tain nervous tracts. Consciousness (by which I mean as much 
as any one does by thoughts and sensations,) has nothing to 
do with muscular contraction, as its immediate cause or ante- 
cedent, — not, indeed, in case of voluntary contraction. That 
conscient action of the brain called a willing, is not the imme- 
diate antecedent of voluntary contractions ; but this conscient 
action excites a motive action of the nervous system, and this 
is the immediate antecedent of voluntar)' contractions. All 
this will appear more clearly in the chapter on Volition, 

But after all, it must be admitted that in many cases the ac- 
tion of the heart is very soon altered after the commencement 
of a passion. And we are now about to offer some consid- 
erations tending to reconcile this fact, with the fact that mus- 
cular organs often remain m some degree contractile, even 
for hours after they cannot be supposed to receive any ner- 
vous fluid from the brain and spinal marrow. 

The reader must remember, that in man the brain bears 
a greater proportion to the rest of the nervous system, than 
in any other animal ; and that as we descend the scale of ani- 
mal beings, the braiij becomes, as we may say, of less and less 
consequence. In rabbits, and particularly in frogs, so great 
a proportionof the nervous fluid, which their hollow muscles 
receive, is secreted by the ganglions (as we suppose) that 
these muscles will remain contractile much longer after the 
brain and spinal marrow are destroyed, than they would in 
man after the destruction of the brain and spinal marrow. 



157 

In the esse of frogs, Dr. Philip has shown, that after the 
brain and spinal marrow are destroyed, the capillary vessels 
remain contractile, so as to circulate their contents, " many 
minutes f and that the heart generally remains contractile 
an hour or two. But in man we doubt if the heart or capil- 
lary vessels would continue to act one minute after being 
treated as the frogs were treated. We presume that if the 
brain and spinal marrow of a man were destroyed, his mus- 
cular organs would not be found to be contractile so long af- 
ter, as they are after death from strangulation, or some other 
cause which may not prevent the nervous secretion from go- 
ing on, a little, after what we call death. In some instances, 
fear so completely suppresses the nervous system, and keeps 
it locked up, as it were, for such a lei^.gth of time, as to de- 
stroy life ; m such cases it is found that the muscles have 
lost, or quickly lose, all contractile power. Be it remem- 
bered, also, that according to our principles, the passions in- 
fluence the action of the heart cJiicjiij through the medium of 
the capillary vessels ; and as the contractile texture of these 
vessels is exceedingly delicate, we need not wonder that a 
momentary increase or momentary suspension of the nervous 
secretion, so destroys the proper balar^e between the con- 
tractility of these vessels and the stimabihty of their contents, 
as to cause an alteration of their actions. Finally, when we 
consider all the differences between a bull frog and a man, 
we need not wonder that in the latter, the passions may, in a 
few seconds of time, influence the capillar} vessels, and con- 
sequently the heart, m the way we have supposed ; although 
a frog's heart may remain contractile a few hours, and his 
capillary vessels '^ a few minutes," after the bram and spina! 
marrow are destroyed. 

I am aware that Dr. Philip has performed certain experi- 



158 

ments, the results of which I must show to be reconcilable 
with the principles 1 have been endeavoring to nnaintain. 

With mallets, knives, wires, and hot pokers, he has crush- 
ed, mangled, pierced and singed ihe brain and spinal marrow 
of rabbits and frogs, and has also poured u[)on them spirits of 
wine, laudanum, and infusions of tobacco. And what were 
the general results ? Why, the more he injured the nervous 
system — the more he slashed it, and the more alcohol he 
poured upon it, so much the more he quickened the action of 
the heart. Hence the Doctor supposed, that by these means 
he stimulated the heart ; whert^as, we suppose he deranged 
the nervous secretion — impaired the contractility of the heart 
and blood vessels, and caused the heart to heat more fre- 
quently, in much the same way that fear does. The spirits of 
wine did not excite the heart in the same wa} that they do 
when drunk : in this case, it may excite the nervous secre- 
tion somewhat, (perhaps, however, by exciting the circula- 
tion,) but it enters mto ihe blood and raises its stimability 
more than it raises the contractility of the heart ; and in this 
way gives rise to an increased^ action of the heart. "^ When 

* Mageudie informs' us, in his " Summary of Pliysioiogy," p. 
257, that by opening thf thorafic dtirt where it forms a junction 
wi h the left subclnvian vein we shall find that the ch>le is poured 
out rather slowly, and of course the rnpiuity with which it runs 
ak)ng the duct is not very great This m.iy lead some to think that 
spirits, wh n dnmk, do not get into the circulating system so soon 
as we find the action of the heart to be accelerated. On this I have 
to remark, that by opening^ the thoracic duct as Magendie did, 
you destroy the i(,fl;ience of thf heart's sucti-m on the motion of 
the chyle ; and asain, [ would ask if any one has found out how 
quickly the heart is influenced afier drinking spirits, the man re- 
maining so still as not to accelerate its action hy exercise P 

We do not deny but that spirits may make an impression upoa 
the nerves of 'he stomach, and give rise to a chaui^e in one's feel- 
ings — perhaps increase the nervous secretion, before they reach the 
circulating system ; but we are inclined to think that the actiou of 
the heart is not acctietated until tliey enter iiie circuktion. 



159 

the contractility of a mairs heart is reduced by disease, a 
spirituous potation accelerates its action more than when its 
contractility is in a high state, as in health. 

When Philip crushed the brain with a hanrinier, he gave 
the nervous system such a shock as completely to arrest, for 
a time, the nervous secretion. This so reduced the power of 
the heart and the contracvility of the capillaries, that the ca- 
pillaries could not withstand the stimulation of their contents 
— they were excited into a sort of constrictive !?pasm, by which 
means the blood wassocrouded into the enfeebled heart, that 
it could not contract so as to free itself of its load ; yet its 
disposition to contract was great, that is, the discrepancy be- 
tween its contractility and the stimability of its contents, was 
great. But presently the shock of the nervous system passes 
off — the contractility of the heart and capillaries begins to be 
restored — the capillaries give more room for the blood — the 
heart begins to struggle ; and finally, for a time, again sup- 
ports the circulation, though more feebly than before the 
brain was crushed. Now what does Dr. Philip conclude 
from this ? He concludes that so far from the power of the 
heart being dependent on the nervous system it may, of its 
own self, recover its power, " precisely as a muscle of volun- 
tary motion will by rest recover its excitability, although all 
its nerves are divided." Surely ! tl is is explaining a mystery, 
merely by comparing it with a greater, which greater he no^ 
where attempts to explain. 

Now we do not think the two cases are alike. It is natu- 
ral for a voluntary muscle to contract but a few times in im- 
mediate succession ; but it is natural for the heart to contract 
once a second or oftener, cori/mwa% ; the heart is notya- 
t gued, when it stops after the crushing of the brain; and if 
the power of the heart and circulating vessels be in de- 



16^ 

pendent of the nervous system, we wish the Doctor would 
just show u.^ why it ceases to act after crushing the brain. 

Dr. Phihp found that he did not stop the action of the heart 
bj removing the brain or spinal marrow, as he did by crush- 
ing tliese organs ; but zu/?^, he does not explain. — We will at- 
tempt it. You cannot remove the brain and spinal marrow 
without some loss of blood ; this prevents the heart from be- 
ing so completely overloaded that it cannot act. True, Philip 
sometimes contrived it, so as to 5/1?)? off a frog's head without 
much loss of blood ; but then, he left the spinal marrow and 
the ganglions which, with the nerves, form the chief part of 
a frog's nervous system ; and in snipping off the head, which, 
by the by, contains a pretty good share of the blood of the an- 
imal, he did not give the nervous system such a shock, as 
when he crushed the brain. 

Dr. Philip found that when he mangled the brain but little, 
or poured alcohol upon only a small part of it, he altered the 
action of the heart little or none. This fact he does not ex- 
plain — he only refers it to a law which he is endeavoring to 
establish ; but we suppose it is because he did not destroy 
the nervous secretion to any great degree. He found, also, 
that his application to the outer parts of the brain did not 
cause any contraction of the voluntary muscles ; but that 
when he got down to the lower part of the brain, where the 
conscient actions go on, he did. Why ? Because he then got 
down to, and excited motive actions in, that part of the brain 
in which the motive actions are excited by the " will," as the 
expression is. 

Again— Dr. Philip states that when he took out the back 
part of the brain, and afterwards poured alcohol upon the 
anterior part; he found the action of the heart as much quick- 
ened as if he had left the nervous system entire. Why so ? 
Why, 1 suspect he did the nervous system as much injury, and 



161 

deranged the nervous secretion as much, as if he had not ta- 
ken out any part of the brain. Should he tell me that the ac- 
tion of the heart was not increased until he applied the alco- 
hol, I should begin to think it is pretty queer if you may catch 
a frog and fall to mangling it, without exciting an increased 
action of the heart, — 1 should think that frogs are so unlike 
men, that experiments made on them will never give us much 
correct information concerning the economy of human be- 
ings. 

Another fact which Or. Philip does not explain, but which, 
so far from causing us to wonder, is what our principles would 
lead us, a priori^ to expect, is this : A transverse division of 
the'spinal marrow renders the voluntary muscles below, par- 
alytic, (in one sense of the word,) but does not influence the 
powers or actions of the hollow muscles. Need we show 
why this is ? Does not the reader sec that the division of the 
spinal marrow prevents the communication of the motive ac- 
tions of the brain to the muscles below, but that it does not 
in the least destroy the nervous secretion, either in the parts 
above or below the division ? 

Dr. Philip has shown that liquid preparations of opium and 
tobacco applied to the nervous system, cause the heart to 
beat less frequently. This fact led him to make a statement 
which appears to us quite irrational. 

On reviewmgthe inferences from his experiments, he says, 
(p. 234) : " The nervous influence is capable of acting as a 
stimulus both to the heart and vessels of circulation." And 
in the lines next immediatelv following, he says : ^' Tiie ner- 
vous influence is capable of acting as a sedative bo<h to the 
heart and vessels of circulation, even to such a degree as ta 
destroy their power." He then refers us to the experiments 
which lead him to this conclusion, and on turning to them we 

find them to be the experiments in which the Jwmmer, the 

21 



1G2 

©pium, and the tobacco, suppressed or i eiaided the action of 
the heart. — I wonder if the Doctor supposes that hammers 
and opium operate on the same principle ! — We do not sup- 
pose the nervous influence, directly, either accelerates or re- 
tards the action of the heart, but if it did either, it would ap- 
pear irrational to suppose it does both. 

Now although Dr. Philip has given us no explanation of 
the fact, that preparations of opium and tobacco, applied to 
the nervous system, cause the heart to beat less frequently ; 
still, in offering opinions opposed to his, it may be thought 
incumbent on us to explain all things ; therefore, we shall, at 
least, attempt to explain this fact. But in confirmation of 
what we have said about the detrimental action of alcohol on 
the nervous system, and of what we are about to say concern- 
ing the modus operandi of opium, kc, ; we will first quote a 
passage from Philip. 

" Mr. Hastings had found, that immersing the hind legs of 
a frog in tincture of opium, [laudanum] in less than a minute, 
deprives it of sensibility. This does not arise from any ac- 
tion of the opium; a watery solution of opium, we found, 
however strong, does not produce the effect. It is immedi- 
ately produced by simple spirit of wine, aiid arises from the 
action of the spirit on the nerves of the part to which it is ap- 
plied. It is remarkable, that if siiiiple spirit ofvt/ine is used, 
the animal expresses severe pain ; if tincture of opium, very 
little." 

From this passage we learn that alcohol makes such rack- 
ing work with the delicate nervous texture, even when not 
applied immediately to it, as to destroy' its sensibility, where- 
as opium does not. Knowing this, wc may the more readily 
admit that alcohol, applied to the nervous glands, may de- 
range the nervous secretion, and yet, that liquid preparations 



1G3 

of opium and tobacco may /;ro???o^e it, \Yhich is the position 
that we shall maintain. 

We suppose that opiunn is a real and powerful promoter, 
not of muscular contractions, but of the nervous secretion, 
and that when laudanum is applied to a considerable part of 
the nervous system, and the animal gets a little over the shock 
of the operation, it moderates the action of the heart as fol- 
lows : — It increases the nervous secretion, whereby it raises 
the contractility of the heart and circulating vessels, and this, 
so far as it respects the relation between the contractility of 
these organs and the stimability of their contents, is equiva- 
lent to diminishing such stimability. This speculation being 
admitted, we see in ivhat zvai/ preparations of opium and to- 
bacco, applied to the nervous system, moderate the action of 
the heart ; we see, also, in v»^hat v/ay opium, given to living 
animals, produces a full, slow pulse. This slow pulse is not, 
in fact, a sedative effect of the opium, considered in relation 
to its action on the nervous system ; but it is a sedative ef- 
fect, considered in relation to its influence on the heart, pro- 
vided we insist on calling every thing a sedative which mod- 
erates the action of this organ. 

The real sedative effects of opium do not follow its being 
taken into the stomach, until twelve or fourteen hours after — - 
then the patient begins to feel weak, faint, &c. — then it is that 
the nervous system is resting from its high action. True, 
opium may raise the contractility of the capillary vessels so 
that many of them may admit red blood, which, before^ did 
not I hence so much blood may be permitted to rush into the 
brain as to produce some impediment to the recurrence and 
occurrence of its conscient actions; so we see, that in this 
way opium may induce sleep ; and yet it may be all the time 
promoting the nervous secretion. — Surely, there is a wide 
difference between the modus operandi of opium and hum* 



164 

mtrs upon the nervous system ; although fhe one may mod- 
erate the action of the heart, and the other destroy it. 

Remarks. — It appears to us that very many writers have en- 
tertained an erroneous notioi. relative to the actions of muscu- 
lar organs : it seems as though they have reasoned something 
like this : A dead organ acts not at all — a living organ acts 
some ; hence the more life, the more action, and the reverse, 
the more action, the more life or power. But this sort of 
mathematical reasoning will not hold in the present case, cer- 
tainly not as it respects the heart. For a frequent, quick 
pulse, we are to look to the sickly and enervated 5 for a slow, 
full pulse, to the hardy yeomanrj^ The physician knows 
that those causes which appear to be calculated to injure the 
nervous secretion, predispose to spasmodic action?; and he 
will find, on reviewing all tl^e facts any way related to the 
subject, that the following is a universal fact, or law of the an- 
imal economy, if you please to call it such, viz. The lower 
the contractility of a muscle (until it get to a very reduced 
point.) the less able is it to withstand the action of a stimulus, 
or in other words, the more is it excited by the same agent. 
Nevertheless, we must make a distinction between a frequent, 
quick, and easily excited action of a muscular organ, and a 
forcible action ; also, between the disposition of an organ 
to act, and its power to act. For mstance, the stimability of 
the blood remainmg the same, you may increase the disposi- 
tion of the heart to act, pretty much in the same ratio you di- 
minish its power or contractilitj'. 

It is true we sometimes meet with a slow pulse in a debili- 
tated subject ; but this slowness is not owing to the atonic 
state of the circulating organs. It is owing to the reduced 
stimability of their contents. This stimability is brought so 
near to a level with the contractility of the organs, that it ex- 
cites them but moderately. Give such patient a glass of 



165 

spirits, or a little stimulating food, ancl you will quicken his 
pulse much more than you would by the same means were 
he well. 

In some diseases the contractility of the circulating organs 
is so much reduced, that the capillary vessels cannot, as wc 
may say, p«iie^//^ bear the stimulation of their contents ; a 
sort of constrictive spasm is excited in them ; they press the 
fluids upon, or rather into, the enfeebled heart ; the surface 
is pale, and the pulse is slow and struggling. Draw a little 
blood and you remove some of the heart's load, enabling it to 
act more freely ; hence you raise the frequency of the pulse 
to the healthy standard. But if you bleed copiously, you 
take from the nervous system that which is necessary to main- 
tain its secretion ; hence you lower the contractility of the 
circulating organs to a greater degree than what the disease 
has done, and the heart flutters, and may soon cease to 
beat. In such case, nothing will save the patient but 
the prompt administration of such medicines as will promote 
and maintain the nervous secretion ; — opium, in regularly re- 
pealed doses, is perhaps the very best. 

When a robust man is taken down with a common inflam- 
matory fever, you will find that sonae cause has raised the 
stimability of his fluids, (spirits may do this, or cold may do i 
by suppressing the perspiration,) or else that some cause haj 
lowered the contractility of his circulating organs, increasing 
their disposition to act. Therefore, in such patient you tine 
a frequent and forcible pulse. Bleed him, and give him dilu- 
ent drinks, and you bring down the stimability of the fluid tc 
a proper relation with the contractility of the organs which 
contain them ; and thus you moderate the action of the heart. 
But bleed him very copiously, and you take away that which 
is necessary to support the nervous secretion, and thus you 
cause the heart to flutter. Give a little opium, and you pro^ 



166 

iiiote the nervous secretion^ and again calm the action of the 
heart. 

We might fill pages with pathological evidence in favor oi 
our opinion of the relation between the nervous and muscular 
systems. But we must proceed to recapitulate the more im- 
portant principles already advanced; for it is necessary that 
the reader remember them, as they will enable us to explain 
the phenomena of the passions, and many other interesting 
phenomena ; by doing which we shall remove much of that 
mystery which has hung over the phenomena of man ; 
^nd we shall show immaterialists, that with all their imagma- 
ry machinery, they cannot begin with the materialists in ex- 
plaining the phenomena of man. — Oh for the time when man- 
kind will be no longer deceived by mere verbosity ! 

Some of the more important principles which we have been 
laboring to maintain, in this chapter, are the following : 

1. That the contractility of the whole muscular system is 
dependent on a nervous fluid. 

2. That the immediate antecedent or cause of the contrac- 
tions of the voluntary muscles, is an action of the nervous sys- 
tem, which action we, for convenience sake, call the cerebral 
stimulus. But so much of this action as takes place in the 
brain, we call a motive action, in contradistinction to the con- 
scieni actions of the brain. 

3. That the onlij stimulus of the hollow muscles, is their 
contents. 

4. That the passions influence the actions of these organs, 
by destroying the proper balance between their contractility 
and the stimability of their contents. 

d. That by diminishing the contractility of a muscle, you 
render it more irritable, in the good old pathological sense of 
the term; but less powerful — for the peculiar joorcer of a mus- 
cle is nothing other than its contractility. 



ia7 

Concerning the nature of the nervous fluid, we shall say but 
few words. Many are already acquainted with the evidence 
in favor of its being the electric fluid, or some modification of 
it ; those who are not, I must refer to Philip's " Inquiry into 
the Laws of the Vital Functions. '- 

I will just offer tv/o or three considerations v/hich. with the 
evidence alluded to, convince mc that the nervous fluid is 
the electric fluid, o^ more probably, that peculiar modificatioii 
of it called the galvanic. First. There are no elements in 
man that do not exist out of the animal system. No man will 
have the hardihood to deny this. Now if we had full lrl)crlj 
to imagine every thing without provir.g any thing, we could 
not imagine any agent by v/hich we could any better explain 
certain phenomena connected with muscular action, than we 
now can, by supposing the eleciric fluid to be concerned in 
the production of these phenomena. 

Suppose we admit for the moment, that the nervous fluid 
is something essentially different from the galvanic, and sup- 
pose we give it the name of life ; and if you please, v/e will 
suppose another agent, totally different from any thing we 
have any knowledge of, and give it tiie name of soul,"~now I 
ask the reader, if there is a single phenomenon of man which 
he can any more explain, or any better explain, these things 
admitted, than he can without supposing the existence of any 
unknown substances. Strange it is that men should think to 
explain the known by (he unknown, and strange it is, that men 
should think they explain phenomena, when they only refec 
them to some brain- begotten agent. 

Second. Chemists can bring many facts in I'avor of the 
opinion that bodies have each a certain capacity for electri- 
eity as well as for caloric, and that when they yield any share 
of their fixed electricity, they suffer some change, even in 
their physical properties ; hence, when substances suffer such 



168 

changes as (hey do, during the processes of digestion, circula- 
tion, (Sic. we ma) easily suppose that some ot them yield a 
portion of their fixed electricity to ihose curious galvanic 
batteries, the nervous glands. 

Animal heat undoubtedly arises from a change of capacity 
for caloric, which materials undergo during the changes that 
are continually going on in the system. It is more than pro- 
bable that the electric or nervous fluid has an important part 
to perform in the production of these changes, consequently 
in the production of animal heat. 

We are now about to treat of the conscient phenomena of 
man ; but before the reader proceeds any further, we v.^ish he 
vrould return to, and read, the two first pages of the chapter on 
Union, and also the note at page 44. 



'00- 



CHAPTER XII. 

On Sensation and Perception, 

The five senses have sometimes been called the external 
senses, in contradistinction to the internal senses, a class of 
beings (not very harmless,) begotten by the well organized 
brain of Mr. Locke. We, however, do not speak of the ex- 
ternal senses, but of the senses ; and mean by them, those or- 
gans upon which impressions immediately operate in exciting 
conscient actions of the nervous system. As to the internal 
senses, they are none of our machinery. 

It must be remembered, that the nerves are the essential 
parts of every sense ; no organ is an organ of sense, or a sen- 
sible org^an, unless it possess a sentient nerve. 

If we have not, we must now inform the reader, that, by 



169 

physiologists, the two cytremities of each nerve or nervous 
tract, are distiiiguisb? ', bj' the names cerebral and organic — • 
the first being connected Wi^h (he brain, and the other with 
the sensible organs. 

Now the nerves are of a diiferent make at their organic 
(and undoubtedly at their cerebral) extremities, from what 
they are between the brain and their organic extremities ; — - 
at least, we know it is so with the optic and auditory nerves 5 
and not only analogy, but very many phenomena, lead s to 
conclude it is so, with all other sentient nerves, 'idecd^ we 
may add, that microscopical observers pretend to lell us that 
the nerves of the tongue, skin, &;c. terminate in minute emi- 
nences, which they call nervous papillce. 

We have somewhere said, that a sensation is a conscient 
action of a nerve and the brain — the action of the brain being 
one which is immediately excited by the nervous action. — 
This definition is concise, and sufficiently correct for the 
occasion on which we used it ; but we shall now treat of sen- 
sation more fully, and, as soon as we get ready, show more 
precisely what it consists in. ,^^-~- 

Sensations are generally excited by impressions. By an 
impression, we mean any agent acting upon any organ so as 
to excite a conscient action of the nervous system — all parts 
concerned, being in a healthy state. 

An impression never reaches the brain. It does not pro- 
ceed along a nerve any more than a man proceeds along a 
cord, when, by touching some part of it, he causes it to vi- 
brate throughout its whole length. It is the action which 
the impression excites, that proceeds along the nerve ; and 
if this action continue on so as to excite an action of the 
brain, it cannot be said, strictly, that the brain receives the 
impression, nor, indeed, that the impressiot) excites the brain ; 
for it is not the immediate antecedent of the cerebral action. 



170 

But it is the nervous action that excites the cerebral action. 
Yet, when we do not attempt to speak with precision, we 
may speak of impressions exciting the brain, of impressions 
passing to the biain, <SiC. ; but our meaning will now be un- 
derstood. 

Between the brain and the nerves there is this important 
difference : when a conscient action has been excited one or 
more times in the brain, there is produced in it such a 
tendency to act after the same manner again, that it may thus 
act without the re-application of the im.pression to the senses 
■which tirst excited the action ; but in the nerves this reac- 
tion, or action without impression, seldom takes place — it 
takes place so seldomly, that when it does occur, it is consid- 
ered a morbid action. The brain, then, is much more influ- 
enced by habit than the nerves. 

Now the results of experiments, and the effects of diseases 
and accidents, prove conclusively that conscient actions of 
the brain are not actions of the whole brain, but only of the 
lower and central part of it ; the precise part is not fully de- 
termined. But that part of the brain which does take on this 
kind of action, we call the sensorium commune. This is that 
part of the brain which thinks, that is, acts without impres- 
sion. In this part only one conscient action occurs in the 
same identical instant. This is admitted on all hands, at 
least, it is admitted on all hands, that whatever thinks, thinks 
but one thought at a time. 

We now take the liberty to say, that the nerves from all 
Ihe senses extend into the brain so as to reach the sensorium 
commune. But in saying this, w^e would not be understood 
to maintain, that if our means of dissection were more per- 
fect, we could trace nervous cords to the sensorium com- 
mune, (though, indeed, this may be the fact,) but we would 
h;jve the reader understand, that, for convenience sake, we 



171 

alter a little the common import of the word nerve^ so as to 
include all parts of the nervous system in which a conscient 
action may be excited, the sensonum excepted. Perhaps we 
include some part that is commonly considered as a part of 
the brain itself, and which we, as anatomists, should describe 
as such — perhaps we do not. Therefore, as it will he very 
convenient, in treating of the conscient phenomena, to give 
the name of nerve to the whole tract of nervous matter pro- 
ceeding from a sensible organ to the sensorium, we take the 
liberty to do so. 

From what we have now said, is is evident that we do not 
pretend to determine what is sensoriu'i» and what is nerve, 
by any obvious marks of distinction between them. But we 
say that the sensonum and the sentient nerves constitute the 
only parts of the animal system in which conscient actions 
may be excited ; and that the sensorium is the one individual 
part which easily acquires a habit of acting without impres- 
sion, and which does not act two actions at the same time, 
any more than one body exists in two places at the same time- 
Having premised thus much, we are now ready to state, that 
a sensation is a conscient action of the or^-anic and cerebral 
extremities of a nerve — let the action commence in whichi 
extremity it may. But in thus stating what constitutes a sen- 
sation, we do not say but that if a conscient action be excited 
in the frw?i/i'of a nerve and in its cerebral exrremity, we should 
have a sensation. — Every one knows that a blow on a certain 
part of the elbow joint, may excite a conscient action in the 
trunk of the ulnar nerve, constituting (widi the action in the 
head) a peculiar pain. 

In ordinary cases, however, sensations are excited by im- 
pressions upon the organic extremities of nerves ; and when 
the action excited by the impression continues on, not onij 
to, but vito, the sensorium, then we have a perception. 



172 

This, then, is our meaning of the word perceptioii. It is 
something more than a sensation or a thought. 

A sensation is a conscient action of the two extremities of 
a nerve ; a perception is a conscient action of the two extrem- 
ities of a nerve and the sensorium ; a thought, or idea, is this 
same action of the sensorium alone. 

Suppose a clock to be in a room where a man is playing at 
chess — the clock strikes and excites a conscient action of the 
man's auditory nerves. This much constitutes a sensation. 
Now if the sensorium have such a strong disposition to think 
about the game, that the action of the auditory nerves does 
not, in the least, change the actions going on in it, then, of 
course, the man keeps thinking right on, just as he would if 
the clock had not struck, and the striking of tiie clock excites 
in him, not a perception, but a sensation. Ask him if he heard 
the clock strike, and he will tell you no. But why does not 
the man remember, as the expression is, that the clock has 
struck ? 'Tis obvious — the clock excited no action in that 
part of the brain which reacts without impression — no action 
of the sensorium. 

Nevertheless, I am inclined to think that the cases are ra- 
ther rare in which the actions of the sensorium continue on, 
when an impression is made upon the senses, just as they 
would if no such impression had been made. I think it much 
more frequently happens that the impression excites an action 
of the sensorium; but owing to its being, as we may say, so 
much engaged about something q lite foreign to the impres- 
sing agent, the action of the sensorium which the impression 
excites, does not call on, call up, excite, or cause to occur, 
any other conscient action of the sensorium in any way rela- 
ted to it ; and on this account it will not readily occur again, 
(without the re-application of the impression,) as no thought 
or conscient action of the sensorium readily occurs, or, more 



173 

properly, recurs^ except it have previously occurred in con- 
nexion with some other thoughts, in some way or other rela- 
ted to it. Indeed, we shall show, that mere!) to have recur 
any (me action of the sensorium relative to any one thing, 
does not constitute a remembering, but merely an individual 
thought, notion, idea, or (if the action be one that was origi- 
nally excited by way of the optic nerves, it is often called 
a) conception. 

To remember any thing, is to have more than one conscient 
action of the sensorium relative to this thing. — No doubt the 
chess-player might have a notion of the striking of a clock, 
but this would not constitute a remembering that a certain 
clock struck at a certain time. 

Some may be led to maintain that there never is such a 
thing as a sensation without a perception — such a thing as a 
sensation without an aot of that which thinks, and which we 
pay is the sensorium. For if there be such a thing as a sen- 
sation without perception, then the sensorium is left free to 
think about any thing it has tendencies to ; and if it should 
be decided that a man may be the subject of one or more sen- 
sations and of thoughts, at the same time — why, such decision 
would be a death-blow to modern immaterialism. For it is 
admitted on ail hands, that one unextended, and consequent- 
ly indivisible, thing cannot be the subject, or more properly, 
the agent, of two acts at the same identical instant. Indeed, 
nothing can be more absurd than to assert that it can — I say 
assert, for the thing cannot be believed or conceived — it is 
inconceivable. 

But facts are stubborn things ; and it is a fact that a man 
may have two or more sensations at the same identical in- 
stant ; and not only so, but he may have one, two or more 
sensations at the same identical instant that he is thinking of 
something, even quite foreign to either of them. A man may 



174 

see a candle, (or any other object,) hear a noise, and have 
the toothache at the same identical instant ; or he may see a 
candle, hear a story, and think of the character? and places 
mentioned, or of other characters and places ever sodistant, all 
at the same identical instant ; but he cannot think about the 
candle, and the characters mentioned in the story, at the same 
identical instant. If the action of the optic nerves excited 
by the candle, excite a corresponding action of the sensori- 
um, then the man has a perception of the candle ; and if this 
action of the sensorium call up other actions relative to — 
suggest other thoughts relative to — the candle, as, what ajine 
light that candle gives, what mis chief inight be done by applying 
it to a cask of gunpowder^ &;c., &;r. then, to use the, at pre- 
sent, convenient language of the schoolmen, the man attends 
io^ OT pays attention to, the candle. But so long as the ac- 
tions of the sensorium relate to the candle, there is excited in 
the man, not perceptions, but only sensations, by him who is 
telling the story. 

To deny that a man may be the subject of two or more sen- 
sations, or of sensations and thoughts, at the same fime, is to 
assert, that when a man hears, he instantly turns blind, his 
eyes being wide open in broad daylight, and when he sees he 
instantly turns deaf, and when he thinks of absent objects, 
past events, mathematical problems, &c. he is the subject of 
no sensation whatever. — What an easy matter to cure the 
gout, according to such a doctrine ! 

A man carmot think away the pain of the gout, though he 
may think of something quite foreign to it, duiing its continu- 
ance. Should it be said, that at the terrible moment when 
the cold wrenching iron is about to be applied to a painful 
tooth, the pain ceases ; we shall reply : it is not because 
there was no pain, absolutely, in the tooth before — because 
there was, before, no conscient action except in the sensori- 



175 

um ; but because the intense actions of the sensorium, the 
dread^ produce such a change in the system, and of course in 
the nerve of the tooth, that the irritating cause which previ- 
ously excited a pain in it, cannot now excite this peculiar 
conscient action. 

Cast your eyes, reader, upon any object that nnay be be- 
fore you — the rays of light reflected from the object ftil! upon 
the organic extremity of your optic nerve, and excite a con- 
scient action in this and the cerebral extremity, (this is a sen- 
sation^) perhaps in your sensorium, constituting a perception 
of the object •, now make a noise with the heel of your shoe, 
still, keeping your eyes upon the object, and observe if you 
do not hear the noise without the least alteration of your view 
of the object, at the instant you hear it— Now shut your eyes 
and make the same noise, observing if it appear any way dif- 
ferent from before. Now stop — keep your eyes shut, and' 
try to have an idea of the object and of the heel of your shoe, 
or try to have, at the same instant, an idea of any two things 
so situated that a man could not see them both at one single 
view, and see if it is not impossible. 

If you grant these things, 1 may almost venture to put you 
down as a materialist without ceremony. If you fiod itdiffi- 
f.ult to satisfy yourself that you do not have a distinct idea of 
the object and of the heel of your shoe at the same instant, still 
you will tind no difficulty in satisfying yourself that you may 
have two or more distinct sensations at the same time ; and 
if you know what the immaterialists hold to, and can see the 
force of arguments, I may still put you down as a materialist 
convinced, if not a materialist confessed. 

You certainly will find it very difficult to determine by di- 
rect experiment that you cannot have two thoughts (different 
thoughts, of course,) at the same instant ; for this very deter- 
mining^ observing^ noticing, Szc, supposes an action of that 



176 

which thinks, and when this action occurs, no other act or 
thought can occur ; hence this very difficulty is evidence that 
you cannot have but one thought, idea, notion, or conscient 
action of the sens^orium at the same instant. If we could 
think 7vhat we think, how we think, &c. at the very instant 
we think, then every man, learned or unlearned, might as ea- 
sily tell what goes on in his head when he reasons, imagines, 
&c. as he may now satisfy himself that he may have two sen- 
sations at a time, or as easily as he can tell how a machine 
operates, every part of which is open to his view. But the 
very instant a man observes what goes on in his head when he 
judges, &LC. thai very instant does the judging process cease. 

We know that two or more sensations, or thoughts and sen- 
sations, existing simultaneously, constitute a " complex state 
of the mind,^'' according to the late professor Brown ofEdin- 
burg, whose speculations concerning the intellectual or con- 
scient phenomena, are, for the most part, less absurd than 
those of any other immaterialist with which we are acquain- 
ted. 

But this "mind''' of professor Brown, is one single, unex- 
tended, indivisible being, capable of existing in only one state 
at the same time, and of course, all our sensations, thoughts, 
and " emotions," are but so many simple states of the mind. 
When I see a candle, my mijid is in one state, according to Dr. 
Brown, if 1 hear, feel, taste or smell nothing at the time ; so if 
I hear, niy mind is in another state, whether I see any thing 
or not. These two states are essentially different from each 
other, as every one will readily grant, provided they occur at 
different times. Now 1 ask if they are any the less so, when 
they occur simultaneously. On trying the experiment as 
above requested, did not the reader find that a seeing and a 
hearing are two sensations, as distinctly different from each 
other, when ihey existed simultaneou&ly, as when they exist- 



, 177 

ed separately ? Surely he did, unless he be constituted entire- 
ly different fronr] myself. Now I ask if ihis single fact alone 
does not destroy the very foundation of Brown's fine spun 
speculations ? Would he attempt to get along by using the 
word complex ? telling us that although a man may see and 
hear at the same time, arid although these two sensations are 
as distinctly different from each other as when they occur at 
different times, still the man's mind is not in two states, but 
in one " simple," '' complex" state ! 

Suppo'^e that one were to maintain that even an extended 
body, as of wax, (which may exist as a sphere at onetime, and 
as a cube at another,) may exist in such a state as to consti- 
titute both a sphere and a cube at the same time, and yet be 
one body — would he expect to render his proposition true, or 
to make people believe him, merely by making use of the 
word complex ? saying, when it exists as a sphere and a cube 
at the same time, it does not exist in two states, but in a com- 
flex state ? 

If a certain state of the mind constitute a certain hearing — 
as by Brown maintained — then such state of the mind and 
such hearing arc the same thing : the existence of the mind 
in such state, is essential to the existence of such hearing: — ' 
the hearing can never be, except the miisd be in such state ; 
and the mind cannot be in such state without the hearing ex- 
isting. And if a certain state of the mind constitute a certaiu 
seeing, then precisely the same state of tlie mind is alivays. 
and essentially necessary to the existence of the same seeing. 
Now, a certain hearing and a certain seeing, either of which 
may exist separately, may both exist at the same identical in- 
stant. It follows, then, as clearly and as irresistibly as de- 
monstration, that this " mind" consists of parts, and, conse- 
quently is extended ; and that when a man hear.., [x part of 
his mind acts or exists in a certain state ; bat wLe.t he comes 

23 



i78 

io see as well QlH hear, another part of his mind isbrong^nt iufo 
action : and when he thinks at the same time he sees and 
hears, (and 1 am as certain I can do this as 1 am that 1 exist.) 
then three parts of his mind act, or exist in certain states. — 
Act they must, for a chavge of slate siippo-^es action. 

This fact, that a man may think, hear, see, &c. at the same 
instant, is a fact which very well agrees with what we be- 
lieve to be the truth. But it completely overthrows — we 
say it dogmatically, for we feel it — this single fact alone com- 
pletely overthrows modern im.materialism. 

All chat Brown has written does not touch the case — does 
not reconcile this fact with his fundamental principles. What 
he has written about simple and complex states of the mind, 
when brought over to the side of materia!i>m, can relate only 
to the phenomena of the sensorium. True, on being asked 
what state the mind is in when a man thinks, hears, sees, S^c, 
at one time, he would undoubiedly say, it is in a complex 
state : we cannot conceive what else he could say. But he 
generally means (indeed, although we have read his whole 
work on the philosophy of the mind, we cannot turn to a pas- 
sage which shows that he does not always mean) by a com' 
plex state ofthemind,a simple state m which the mind wo^ld 
not have existed had it not previously existed in certain other 
states — a state too, which is seemingly equivalent to these 
preceding states ; bearing much the same relation to them 
that one body bears to the elements of which it is composed. 
See some of his own words. 

*' The mind, it must be allowed, is absolutely simple in all 
its states ; ever} state or affection of it must, therefore, be ab- 
solutely simple ; but in certain cases in which a feeling is the 
result of other feelings preceding it, it is its very nature to ap* 
pear to involve the union of those preceding feelings ; and to 
distinguish the separate sensationsj or thoughts, or emotions. 



17§ 

of which, on rcHeclion, it thus seems to be comprehensive, is 
to perform an intellectual process, which, though not a real 
analysis, is an analysis at least relatively to our conception* 
It may still, indeed, be said with truth, that the different feel- 
ings. — the t<tates or affections of the mind which we term 
complex^ — are absolutely simple and indivisible, as much as 
the feelings or affections of the mind which we term simple. 
Of this there can be no doubt. But the complexity with 
which alone we are concerned is not absolute, hut relative, — - 
a seeming complexity, which is involved in the very feeling of 
relation of ever) sort."*" 

From this passage we learn that Brown means by a com- 
plex state of the mind, a state absolutely simple and indivisi- 
ble, but a state which is " the result of otlier preceding feel- 
ings." We learn, too, that Brown does not use the word 
*' feeling" exclusively to denote one of the five species of sen* 
sation, but uses it to denote any thought, emotion, or affec- 
tion. 

Now admitting Brown's leading principles (o be correct, in 
his meaning of the expression complex state of the mind, as 
above expressed, he does not comprehend those cases in which 
men see, hear, and even think, at the same time ; for ia 
those cases the state of the mind is not indivisible, in any 
sense in which we can speak of the divisibility or indivisi- 
bility of a state. The state which constitutes the hearing, is 
independent of the state which constitutes the seeing, and the 
state which constitutes the seeing, is independent of the state 
which constitutes the hearing. This is certain, for these two 
sensations may exist separately. Therefore, when a man 
sees and hears at the same instant, his mind is not in an indi- 

*" Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind," vol. l.p. 
122. 



180 

visible state, or rather, his mind is not an iiulivisible thing, 
but consists of parts, and is consequently extended. 

Should the imniatenaiists remodel their doctrine, and 
send it abroad under an extended form, we should tell them, if 
their mind be exteiided, it is nothing but so much space, un- 
less it possesses some other property ; and if it do possess 
some other property, then it is a conbination of prope7'iies, i. e. 
it is matter. Yet we should not expect to refute iheir doc- 
trine in this ^vay, but in the way in which we expected to re- 
fute immaterialism at the time we commenced this work ; 
that is, by giving a more rational explanation of the phenome- 
na of man, without supposing the existence of any mind, than 
has ever been given by those who have admitted its exist- 
ence ; showing, also, the many insuperable difficulties that 
attend the immaterial hypothesis, asid calling on its advocates 
to show us one glimpse of evidence in favor of it. 

We have said that ordinary sensations consist in a conscient 
action of the organic and cerebral extremities of a nerve. 
But what, it may be asked, do we mean by an extraordinary 
sensation ? We mean sensations whych consist, in part, of a 
conscient action of a trurdc of a nerve. In ordinary sensa- 
tions, there is no conscient action of the trunk of a nerve ; 
if there were, when a hot iroti is applied to one's hand, there 
would be a feeling excited, not only in the hand, but all along 
up the arm. 

Now if the nerves distributed to any part, be compressed 
or divided any where in their course from such part to the 
sensorium, no sensation is caused by impressions made on 
such part. This fact seems to prove, that m case of sensa- 
tion, someihin<r passes along the nerves from the part upon 
which an impression is made to the head. 

Now, what is it that passes along the trunk of a nerve in 
case of sea&ation ? is it an action, or is it a fluid ? We believe 



181 

it is an action ; and the reader will be very apt to believe so too, 
if he believe what we have said concerning the cerebral sijni- 
ulus. But is this action of the same nature with that wliich 
imnnediately precedes vokmtary contractions, except it runs 
towards, instead of from the brain ? and what oanae shall we 
give it ? 

Concerning the first question, we can go so far as to say, 
that this action and that which immediately precedes a vol- 
untary contraction, agree in one respect, in that of being in- 
conscient : further than this, we cannot say. 

As to naming it,— since it will l)e convenient to distinguish 
it from the cerebral stimulus, as also from the conscient actions 
of the nervous system, — we will call it a nervous action. 

Should any one be so little acquainted with tfie nature. of 
organized beings, as to w^onder why a conscient action does 
not always occur in the trunk of a nerve in case of sensation, 
since it appears that by much force (as a blow ou the elbow 
joint,) this kind of action may be excited in the trunk of a 
nerve, we will do away this wonder. 

It must be remembered that the property of an organ is 
nothing distinct from the organ itself; liiat these properties 
are, in fact, mere Vvords of relation. Because a certain part 
suffers certain chariges under certain circumstances, vve say 
it has a certain properly ; and as parts differently organized 
do not suffer the same chai^ges under the same circumstances, 
it becomes necessary for us to say, they possess ditferent pro- 
perties, or one common property in diflerent degrees, as we 
think most proper — most convenient. And as the trunks of 
nerves are not organized like their extremities, a stronger 
impression is required to excite a eoiiscient action in themj 
than in the extremities; henre we say, the trunks of nerves 
possess a lower degree of sensibility than Iheir extrenuties. 
This we prove by the same fact which causes us to say it, — 



182 

the fact, that it requires a stronger impression to excite a con- 
3cient action in them, than in the extremities. 

We will now adduce a fact or two, which seems to bhoWj 
that when impressions are made upon the trunks of nerves so 
as to excite a conscient action in the part upon which the im- 
pression is made, or even so as only to excite a nervous action 
in this part, this nervous action extends down the nerve as well 
as up. When a strong impression is made upon the trunk of 
the ulnar nerve in the elbow joint, a conscient action is ex- 
cited in this part of the nerve, and a nervous action in the 
parts continuous, and as there is excited a peculiar feeling in 
the hand and fingers, we suppose the nervous action contin- 
ues down the ulnar nerve as well as up, and excites a con- 
scient action in its extremities, these being more sensible 
than its larger branches. A disease in the vicinity of a ner- 
vous trunk may excite a nervous, but not a conscient, action in 
it. This action may extend down to the extremities of such 
nerve, and in theee more sensible parts excite a conscient 
action. Hence a man having a disease of the hip joint, which 
disease is confined to parts nearly or quite insensible, there 
shall be no pain, or nearly none, in the hip ; but the disease 
making an impression upon the trunks of those nerves which 
are distributed to parts below, there may be a pain in these 
lower parts, causing the patient, and possibly the physician, 
to believe that the real seat of the disease is in these parts. 

If I am not mistaken, it has been maintained that in reality 
all sensations exist only in the head ; or to express the senti- 
ment in our own language, that there is no conscient action 
except in the brain. Consequently, when a man has the 
gout, or the tooth-ache, there is no pain, absolutely, in the 
diseased part: he may think that there is, but 'tis all a no- 
tion ; the pain is absolutely in the head where the soul is, and 
this deluded thine refers it to the diseased part. What sort 



183 

*f a thing a pain is, tiiat the part (that iinextendedpart ! called 
sou],) in which it exists, may refer it to a part in which it does 
not exist, I do not stop to inquire, but proceed to remark, that 
this strange doctrine, which men of common sense (a term 
whJch passes very smootlily if we do not attempt to define it,) 
will never admit, necessarily follows from the doctrine of 
mind. The philosopher takes it for granled — for there is no 
evidence of it — that there is a soul or mind in man, which 
thinks and feels ; this soul he places in the brain ; and then 
says, " as nothing can act where it is not, any more Ihan when 
it IS not," (which is very true,) all thinking and feeling must 
go on in the head. 

You need not be surprised if you hear such philosopher say 
of a person, " he imagines a thousand strange feelings.'' But 
unless the word imagine be used in some other sense than its 
usual one, such talk is absurd. Unless to imagine a feeling 
mean the same as to experience a feeling, the cause of which 
is not obvious, then it is as absurd to say a man imagines a 
feeling, as to say he feels as though he feels, which can only 
mean he feels. If these " strange feelings" may be cured by 
cheerful company, good news, fright, or by any thing which 
excites new conscient actions of the nervous system, it is not 
proved that they are not real — it is only proved that they 
arise from such causes that they may be cured by such means. 
Certainly, there is no such thing as an unreal feeling, any 
more than an unreal coughing, or an unreal motion of any 
kind. It sometimes happens that a conscient action com- 
mences in the sensorium, and extends down certain nervous 
tracts, constituting what some call an emotion, and what we 
shall call a sensorial passion ; and it may be that some of 
those feelings called imaginary, consist of conscient actions 
which commence in the sensorium ; consequently, as we 
should suppose, may be cured, or for the time removed, by 



184 

any th'mg which may excite a new train of ideas, a new traia 
of sensorial actions. 

When we say that every sensation is a real sensation, and 
supposes a conscient Fiction of a nprve in which the sensation 
exists, or as some would say, seems to exist, we are aware it 
may be said, that after a person has had a limb amputated, he 
often thinks he experiences a sensation in the amputated 
part. But we account for the fact as follows : — A pain in 
the left foot, for instance, is a disagreeable sensation, a disa- 
greeable conscient action, commencing in the nerves of this 
fo6t, and by the intervention of a nervous action, giving rise 
to a conscient action of the cerebral extremity of such nerves 
— perhaps of the sensorium ; if so, it becomes a painful per- 
ception, or pain perceived. This action of the sensorium 
(which, when it occurs without the sensation, constitutes a 
thought,) may be foilovred by other sensorial actions [other 
thoughts] related to it ; and if so, then ihe person attends to, 
or thinks about the pain of his foot ; and his thoughts may be 
such as may be expressed by these words : " pain in my left 
foot — my left foot — down 'm\ my left foot," &c. Now let his 
left foot be amputated — afterwards a conscient action com- 
mences in the stump, and is immediately succeeded by a ner- 
vous action extending up to the brain in the samt nervous tract 
that formerly conveyed actions from the left loot. Getting 
up to the brain, a conscient action of ihe cerebral extremity 
of this tract and of the sensorium is excited. This action of 
the sensorium suggests, or, if you please, is followed by, those 
actions [thoughts] which formerly occurred on the sensorium 
being excited by an action of ihe cerebral extremity of this 
tract — to »vil, those actions or thouglits which may be ex- 
pressed by — '' pain in my left foot — left foot — down in my 
left foot," &c. This we contend is all that constitutes a sen- 
sation in the amputated left foot. 



186 

We suppose that those who tell of experiencing a sensation 
in an amputated part, have frequently and recently experien- 
ced a sensation in such part, and thought much about the 
part ; and after the part is removed, some irritating cause, 
operating upon the same nervous tract which before connect- 
ed this part with the brain, gives rise to a conscient action 
of the cerebral extremity of this tract, and of the sensorium, 
which action of the sensorium is associated with ideas rela- 
tive to the removed part ; and that all this constitutes what 
passes for a sensation in such removed part. But let the 
person consider, for a moment, that he now possesses no such 
part, and he will tell you, if honest, that he does not absolutely 
experience precisely the same consciousness that he did before 
the part was amputated ; but that it seems to him, somehow 
or other, as though there was a sort of feeling somewhere in 
that quarter. 

A perception consists in a conscient action of the organic 
and cerebral extremities of a nerve [a sensation] and a corres- 
ponding action of the sensorium. We now proceed to show 
what we mean by a corresponding action of the sensorium. 
It is that action of the sensorium which immediately succeeds 
a conscient action of the cerebral extremity of a nerve — im- 
mediately succeeds a sensation — not by virtue of a tendency 
of the sensorium to act such action, but as the effect of the 
conscient action of the nerve. It is a conscient action of the 
sensorium which, together with the sensation that immediate- 
ly excites it, constitutes a perception, {t is an action which 
is excited in every person's sensoiium on the same impres- 
sion being made upon his senses, provided the impression ex* 
cite a perception, and not merely a sensation. Conscient 
actions of the sensorium are continually taking place when 
the person is awake ; and in this state, too, there is perhaps 

always an impression operating upon some one of his senses. 

24 



18G- 

exciting a sensation ; which sensation must of course be ira- 
mediately succeeded by some action of the sensorium ; but if 
the action of the sensorium be one that occurs by virtue of one 
of its tendencies, and not one that is excited by the sensation 
— not an action that corresponds with the sensation — then it 
is not a perception that takes place in the man, but a sensation 
and a thought. 

The sensorial actions or thoughts which follow a certain 
perception— but neither of which constitutes any part of a 
perception at the time it occurs — may be very different in 
different persons. The reason of this is, because different 
men possess different sensorial tendencies — as will appear 
more clearly hereafter. 

I must be permitted to dwell a little upon the subject of 
perception, even if I repeat very nearly the same sentiments 
over and over again ; fori wish to have the reader think just 
as I do concerning it. 

There is no such thing as a perfect perception without a 
sensation, but as we use the word perception, there may be a 
perception without attention ; this we say is possible in the 
nature of things — it is conceivable. But I think that when a 
man has a perception of any object, he generally attends to it 
more or less» — A thought or an idea is an action of that which 
thinks and which we say is the sensorium. Now, al'hough 
an action of the sensorium that is immediately excited by a 
sensation, is not what I call a thought zohen it is thus excited, 
but a part of a perception ; (yet it is a thought when it recurs 
without the sensation ;) still it may be followed by other ac- 
tions of the sensorium which are related to it, and of course 
related to the object which excites the perception ; and if it 
be so, then the person thinks about the object or attends to it. 
And to attend to any thing iw^i the same as to pay attention to 
it ; and attention consists in nothing other than attending 



187 

to or pacing attention* Th€ faculty of attention can only 
mean that but for which a man would not attend — would not 
attend to his perceptions, or what is the same thing in other 
words, would not attend to the objects which excite his per- 
ceptions. Now this something but for which a man would 
not attend to — would not think about — an object perceived, 
is his sensorial tendencies ; which tendencies are nothing 
original in his constitution, but something ac^mVeJ, and some- 
thing which he never possesses until after he has perceived 
— as we shall presently proceed to show. 

1 am inclined to think that the organic and cerebral ex- 
tremities of ihe optic and auditory nerves, are so near to each 
olher, that a conscient action of the sensorium, together with 
a corresponding action of onli/ the cerebral extremity of ore 
of these nerves, is a consciousness so nearly like that of a 
perfect perception, that one who is not in the habit of attend- 
ing to his perceptions might mistake it for a perfect percep- 
tion — mistake it, I say, that is, he might talk, act and believe, 
just as though it were a perfect perception. For illustration, 
a certain man is before your open eyes — rays of light are re- 
flected from him, and strike upon the organic extremity of 
your optic nerves in such a manner as to excite a certain 
conscient action in the organic and cerebral extremities of 
your optic nerves, and in your sensorium. This is di perfect 
perception of the man. At another time, your brain being 
in a morbid state, not only this action of your sensorium may 
arise, but it may immediately give rise to the action of the 
cerebral extremity of your optic nerves ; which action of the 
sensorium and the cerebral extremity of your optic nerves is 
a consciousness so nearly like a perfect perception of said 
man, that you would say the man or bis ghost is before you. 
You would say you have something more than a mere idea or 
conception of the man. You would believe him to be pr^- 



188 

sent until, putting forth your hands, you could not feel him ; 
or until something else should cause you to believe that you 
experience a '^ delusion of the senses." 

The reader is already aware that we use the word sensa- 
tion as a sort of generic term, including five species, as sei^ng, 
hearing, feeling. &c. ; which last mentioned species hsts sev- 
eral varieties, as hunger, thirst, &c. Now we have as n^any 
different species of perceptions and ideas, as we have of sensa- 
tions. We may have perceptions by way of the optic, audi- 
tory, olfactory, and gustatory nerves, and by way of the 
nerves of feeling ; which last are very widely distributed, go- 
ing not only to the skin, but to many mternal parts. And as 
that action of the sensorium which, existing together with the 
sensation which immediately excites it, constitutes a part of 
a perception, does, when it occurs independent of such sen- 
sation, constitute a thought or idea, we see that we have five 
sorts of ideas, as well as five sorts of sensations and percep- 
tions. But metaphysical writers have generally very little 
regarded only one sort of our perceptions and ideas, and these 
are our opfical ideas and perceptions. In the present work, 
most of our observations relative to perceptions and ideas, 
■will be confiiied to those which come by way of the eye and 
the ear, or, if you please, by way of the optic and auditory 
nerves. But as we shall often have occasion to distinguish 
these two sorts of perceptions and ideas from each other, we 
propose to call those which come by way of the optic nerves, 
optical perceptions and ideas, and those which come by way 
of the auditory nerves, audial perceptions and ideas. 



189 

CHAPTER XIII. 

On Ideas, and Sensorial Tendencies. 

Excepting sensations and perceptions, all the conscient or 
intellectual phenonnena of man consist in nothing other than 
in having conscient actions of the sensorium, one after anoth- 
er. And ail these actions are such as have some time or oth- 
er been excited by impressions upon the senses, or sentient 
nerves. When they were first excited, (and at all times 
when they are immediately re-excited by a sensation, or, if 
you please, by an impression upon the senses,) each one con- 
stituted an essejitial part of a perception ; but when any one 
of these actions of ihe sensorium occurs without being imme- 
diately excited by a corresponding action of a nerve — when 
it does not constitute a part of a perception — then it consti- 
tutes what we call a thought, or idea. 

But why does the sensorium react without the reapplica- 
lion of the impression to the senses, which first excited the 
action ? This is a question about an ultimate fact, and of 
course admits of no explanation. We know that it is a law of 
the animal economy, that when an action has beeri excited 
one or more times in a nervous or muscular organ, such or- 
gan is more or less disposed to act after the same manner 
again. It is on this account we say animals are influenced by 
habit; and on this account we might say animals possess the 
property o(habiliti/, with the same propriety that we say -they 
possess sensibility, or any other property which arises from 
organization. 

!Now there is not, perhaps, in the whole kingdom of organ- 
ized beings, any animal, organ, or part of an organ, which is 
more influenced by habit, or in other words, possesses a great- 



190 

er degree ofhability, than that part of the human brain which 
is called the sensorium. This is so much or so rpadily influ* 
enced by habit, that when a conscient action has been exci- 
ted in it one or more times by an impression upon the sen- 
ses, it acquires such a strong disposition or tendency to act af- 
ter the same manner again, that it does thus act without the 
reapplication of the impression to the senses, which first exci- . 
ted the action. 

We now proceed to maintain one of the important posi- 
tions laid down in the first paragraph of this chapter, which 
is, in amount, this : No man ever has an idea which is not in 
the first instance excited by an impression upon one of his 
senses. 

Of the truth of this position wo are most firmly convinced ; 
yet, owing to the abstruse nature of the subject, and more es- 
pecially to the language which we must use in treating of it, 
we shall not be able to convince our readers of its truth with- 
out some effort on their part. They must remember in what 
sense we use certain important words, especially the word 
idea, and as they read along, they must frequently " turn their 
thoughts inward," as Locke would say, and attempt the dif- 
ficult task of determining if what we say be true or false. 

We begin by telling the reader, that with the exception of 
the ideas of words, (which ideas he never much regarded,) 
he never had a quarter so many ideas as he thinks he has — 
we mean veal ideas, and not substituted ideas. He may have 
ideas — real ideas — of things which have impressed his senses; 
and he may call these ideas, ideas of things which he has 
never seen, felt, tasted, &c. ; but they are only substituted 
ideas of such things. If he never saw London, he cannot 
have an idea of that place, though he may have read ever so 
much about it. To be sure, he may have what he calls an 
idea of London, but his idea of London is only a substituteil 



191 

one. He has seen a populous city where houses stand thick, 
where glittering spires extend into the air, and where there 
are streets thronged with men, horses, carriages, &c. ; of 
this citj he may have a real idea, and when he reads of Lon- 
don, this idea may recur, and he may call it an idea of Lon> 
don. But if he should be carried to London while sleeping, 
he might be much at a loss in determining what place he is 
in ; whereas, if carried to a place of which he may have a 
real idea, he would know on waking what place he is in* 

Should you tell me, reader, that you have never seen Lon- 
don, but that you have an idea of that place which is differ- 
ent from any idea of any city you have seen — that what you 
call your idea of London, is an idea of a larger city than the 
largest you have ever seen, 1 should suspect that you have 
never been much in the habit of " turning your thoughts in- 
ward," and that, as like as any way, you have no idea of any 
city at the time you say so. Think closely, I trust you will 
have the luck to satisfy yourself that you cannot have one 
distinct and instantaneous idea of a bigger cluster of build- 
ings than (he biggest you have ever seen. But you may have 
an idea of one cluster, and then of another to the right or left 
of it, and then of a third, and so on, and when you get through 
you may say you have had an idea of a very large city. Yet 
we will venture to tell you that you never did have one dis- 
tinct, and consequently, instantaneous idea, real or substitu- 
ted, of a larger cluster of buildings than you have ever seen at 
one single view. 

Now if we admit that you may have ideas of objects which 
you have never seen, you must remember that you do not 
have what we call real ideas of such objects, and that by call- 
ing a real idea of one thing, an idea of another thing, you do 
not increase your store of ideas. You will remember, too, 
that the number of ideas which you may have, never can ex- 



192 

ceed as we maintain, the number of sensorial tendencies you 
possess, which tendencies are all acquired by the exercise of 
your senses. 

Yon cannot have an idea, not even a substituted idea, of 
a golden mountain. You may talk about such a thing and you 
may have an idea of a large hill, for you have seen one ; but to 
have an instantaneous idea of a large hill all over yellow, you 
cannot. I once thought that I could, but I am now satisfied 
that my ideal rnountain all over yelloro is not larger than the 
largest yellow, convex or globular body I have ever seen. If 
you have any doubts whether you can have an idea of a hill 
some miles in circumference all over yellow, make the attempt, 
and then have an idea of a yellow ball a few inches in diame- 
ter, and see how much more distinct and satisfactory is your 
idea of the yellow ball than of the yellow mountain, — think of 
the blossom of a dandelion on the side of a large hill, and ex- 
tend if you can. this yellowness all over the mountain, so as to 
have one distinct idea or thinking view of all the sides of a 
yellow mountain. I trust you will find that you have first an 
idea of one part of the mountain, and then of another, and 
that you cannot have an idea of a larger yellow surface, than 
the largest yellow surface you have ever seen. 

Putting colour aside, I doubt if you can have an idea o^ all 
the sides of a ojountain, at the same instant. You may, in- 
deed, have an idea of all the sides of an eminence at one in*- 
stant ; but on second thought, this eminence, instead of being 
a rough hi)], miles over, is about as smooth and about as large 
as an upturned potash kettle. 

Can a man have an idea of something before him and of 
something behmd him, at the same instant? 1 cannot, and 
the good reason is, I never saw something before me and 
something behind me at the same instant. But although I 
cannot have an instantaneous idea of a man before me and a 



193 

man behind me, yet I can have an idea of a great nunnber o£ 
men standing so that I could see them at a single g!ance ; for 
before now 1 have seen at one glance, many men standing 
thus. 

Can a man have any idea of the things (not of the words) 
honor, glory, pride, industry, soul, belief, truth, sensibility, 
the, therefore, yes, and thousands of such like things, if things 
they may be called ? To be sure a man may have w^hat he 
calls an idea of honor, for instance, but putting aside the idea 
of the name, or v/ord, what is it ? Can he even satisfy him- 
self ? 

For my own part, an optical or audial perception of the 
word honor, is not invariably followed by any one idea which 
I can call my idea of h^nor ; but an optical or audial per- 
ception of the word cozo is generally followed by one idea, 
winch I may in truth call my idea of the thing cow. I would 
not say my idea of the thing cow, is a four-leged idea, posses- 
sing two white horns, and a bag with four teats ; neither 
would I say my idea of an extended object is an extended 
idea — by the by, no man ever had an idea of extension ; he 
may have ideas extended objects, but strictly speaking no 
idea of extension, — what passes for an idea of space, is a sub- 
stituted idea, it is that sensorial action which is excited wheu 
a man looks off mto the air. An idea is nothing more nor 
less than a conscient action of the sensonum, occurring with- 
out the sensation which first excited it, and which may ex- 
cite it again, though whenever it be excited by its sensation, 
it is not then an idea, but a part of a perception. In the sense 
in which I use the word idea, I have no idea of honor — nay 
optical and audial ideas of the word itself excepted. An idea 
is one idea, and one idea is one conscient action of the senso- 
rium ; it is an action which was originally excited by one 

sensation — bv one impression. Several sensorial aciious oc^ 

25 



194 

ctirring together, that is in immediate ?ncre?«ion, ron?titnte 
what is called an idea of honor; b«]t (his is using the word in 
its popular sense, we should say ilwy constitute a notion of 
honor. 

We would say that a man may have a notion of honor, of 
glory, of goodness, of charity, and s»'ch hke thin^less names, 
but these notions are composed, as it were, of s( veral ideas or 
sensorial actions. Hence uilTt rent men may have ditFerent 
notions of honor, g?ory, charity &c. So far as I tan deter- 
mine, my notion of honor generally co,)sisis of ideas of a man 
equipped in the style of our highest military officers, upon an 
elegant horse, at the head of a body of armed men. Never- 
theless those ideas which arise wiien I see or hear the word 
honor, and which constitute the notion of honor I then have, 
are not always the san^e, but depend somewhat on the other 
l^ords whicli I see or hear in connexion witti the word honor, 

A man's idea of an action is but an idea of an age^it act- 
ing; and the same may be said with respect to his idea of an 
event. — An event is nothing other than one or more agents 
acting ; and putting aside both the optical atid audial idea of 
the word, a man has lio other idea of an event than that of 
one or more agents acting. 

When a man goes to church and hears what his preacher 
has to say, let him cease paying attention, and instantly con- 
sider what thoughts have been running through his brain •, he 
will find (hat he has had noth'ng but a (bain of real or substi- 
tuted (mostly substituted) ideas, of real or supposed entities ; 
he will find, that as much as may have been said about heav- 
en. Deity, glory, spirit, charity. &c. &:c. he has had no idea 
of any thing which he has never witnessed. 

Finally, if any man will point out to us any idea which he 
can have, and which he sup[)Oses he did not acquire, direcihj^ 
by way of his senses, we will engage to show him that such 



195 

idea is, in fnrt, nothing other than a niimher of simple and 
real i(Jea^. occurring in close succession, and is more proper- 
ly a sentinjent, opinion, or notion^ than an idea ; or else that 
it is merely a substituted idea, as is that man's idea of Lon- 
don who has never seen that city. 

The truth is, as a (ew material elements combined together 
in different ways arjd proportions, constitute the infinite va- 
riety of material bodies winch we behold ; so the few ideas 
which a man may have (1 do not say has, for a man never has 
but one idea at a time,) by occurring, different numbers in 
different orders, conetilutt- all his o()inions, rememberings, 
judgings, imaginii'gs, Sic. And we will just add in this place^ 
that the succession of one's ideas is not regulated by any 
" willing" principle existing in one's head ; but they occur 
according to their relations with each otlier, and according 
to the strength of iheir respective •ensorial tendencies. — An 
idea is a conscient action of the sensorium, and the stronger 
the disposition ortendencj of the sensorium to act any action, 
the more likely is this action to occur. 

But if our ideas, after excepting ideas of words, are so very 
few, it may be asked why we have so many words, it being 
generally admitted that words are bu^t signs or representatives 
of ideas. Perhaps sev^^ral reasons might be given, but it 
seems to us that the two following are the principal ones : — 
First, because our ideas, what few we have, iDay occur in dif- 
ferent orders or relations with each other, conslitutiiig differ- 
ent sentiments ; second because we substitute an idea of one 
thing for an idea of another thing, perhaps for a third or fourth, 
and so on — and thus we have what we call ideas of thousands 
of things which we never saw, and which, perhaps, never ex- 
isted. 

Finally, the brain is a very active organ, and when one is 
awake, thouglits are occurring in all sorts of others, and we 



19G 

cannof let our fellow beings know what goes on in our heads, 
without using more words than what we have ideas, if we ex- 
cept our ideas of the words themselves. 

Association of Ideas. The sensorium not only has tenden- 
cies to act individual actions, but it is disposed to act, in im- 
mediate succession, those actions that are, in some way or 
other, related, especially those that are related in respect to 
the time in which they have before occurred, or been exci- 
ted. If two ideas have occurred in immediate connexion, 
they have occurred at the same time, according to the com- 
mon manner of speaking; and in this respect, if in no other, 
they are related. 

When we talk about a man's thoughts, ideas, or sensorial 
actions being related, we use convenient language ; but lan- 
guage that is not so strictly correct as language that might be 
invented. — Since the sensorium acts but one action at the 
same instant, strictly speaking, these actions, directly and of 
themselves, can no more be related, than one thing which 
does exist, can be related to a thing which does not exist, or 
what is the same thing, no more than a thing which does ex- 
ist can be related to nothing. However, we shall still con- 
tinue to speak of relations between a man's ideas, and shall 
now endeavor to show in what respect ideas are related, so 
as to run together or associate in families, or trains. 

First. They are related in respect to time. When two or 
more actions or ideas have occurred in connexion, they have 
occurred nearly in the same time ; and the sensorium is 
more or less disposed to act after the same manner again, 
that is, to act these actions in connexion again : it is more 
disposed to do this, than it is to act in connexion those actions 
which never }'et occurred in connexion, other things being 
equal. All actions or ideas that have occurred in immediate 
succession are said to be related, as to time. 



197 

Second. When objects are in any way related, our ideas 
of these objects are related. A giant is a very large man, a 
dwarf a very small man : they are both men of wicommon 
size; in this respect they are related. And when a man 
sees or thinks of a dwarf, he may soon think of a verj' large 
m^in ; he may think, Jioid much smaller this w.an is than some 
of the large 7nen rue read of, 

A man's portrait has some resemblance to the man him- 
self; in this respect they are related -, and a sight or thought 
of the portrait is very likely to be followed by an idea of the 
man. Objects of a similar appearance excite similar actions 
of the sensorium ; and it is not strange that the sensorium 
should act similar actions in connexion, instead of dissimilar, 
ail other things being equal. The sensorium has many strong 
tendencies to act, and when it is in a good condition to act, 
some action or other is continually taking place ; but when 
it becomes tired, as the expression is, it ceases to act, and 
becomes recruited by sleep. 

Those ideas which are related on account of some relation 
between their objects, may be said to be related by way of 
their objects ; and we cannot see as there would be any im- 
propriety in calling (his sort of relaiion between ideas, o^bjec- 
tive relation. 

As some objects are related by way of their names, ihe 
written or spoken name of one object may be followed by an 
idea of another object, though this name and this object are 
as dissimilar as boots and hutter. The word hook may he 
succeeded by an idea not only of the word but of ilie thn.g 
book. 

When a man acquires two or more sensorial tendencies in 
the s^me place, 1 do not think these tendencies or their cor- 
responding actions arc related, barely on account of his hav- 
ing acquired them in the same place. To be sure, liiey may 



198 

be related, Vuf it is because they xrere acquired at the same 
time. Or if lime intervene — if the man acquire one tenden- 
cy on one day, ai.d remaining in the same place, acquire an- 
other ter.dency on arsother day, these tendencies are hnked 
together, as it were, by intervening tendencies, that is, by ten- 
dencies acquired between the two days. 

Nevertheless, a man nray be in a certain place, and there 
see a carriage turn over ; but this carriage is not all he sees ; 
he sees something which ren»ains there for \ears ; and all he 
sees at a single glance, excites but one action of his sensori- 
um ; and when the m^ni leturns to the place years after, he 
may, for aught we kr>ow, think of the carriage, not solely be- 
cause he saw it at the time he saw the place, but because a 
part of the scene wtnch excited th.s one action still remains, 
and is enough to re -excite, or call up, this one action which 
inrludes, as we may say, an idea of the carriage. 

Peshaps it will be said that we have now done as good as to 
give up what we have just been contending for, viz. that sen- 
sorial tendencies acquired in the same place are none the 
more related, barely on this account ; but we believe that 
we have not. The second view of the place does not call 
up, immediately and directly, an idea of the carriage alone, 
but it excites an action, which is much hke that excited by 
the first view ; the sensorial action excited by the first view 
of course recurs, and includes, as w^e may say, an idea of the 
carriage — in other words, the second sight of the place does 
not suggest an idea of the carriage alone, but an idea which in- 
cludes an idea of the carriage. This, however, is a nice dis- 
tinction between matters and things, and we have written 
this, and the precedi'ig paragraph, chiefly for the purpose of 
showing what may be said, being all the while prett) posi- 
tive that the second view of the place calls up the idea of 
the carriage, solely because the man had previously seen the 



199 

place and the carnage at the same time. To enable our read- 
ers the better to decide concerning this matter, we put the 
following question : 

Suppose a man goes to a certain strange place, and there 
acquirers a sensorial tendency by seeing a very deformed man ; 
this tendency he retains, but every other one acqtiired at the 
place soon dies avvav, so that he can have no notion of the 
place, the name of the m>>n, nor of any thing which he wit- 
nessed at the place, the bare conception of the deformed maa 
excepted. Now let the man go to the sa'ue place again, and 
acquire one more tendency, and only one which he retains ; 
the man has now two sensorial tendencies acquired at the 
same place. Btit do you think they are any more likely to 
become operative together — do)ou think their corresponding 
actions or ideas are any more likely to occur in connexioa 
on this account ? If you answer no, then you decide that ideas 
are none the more related and none the more apt to occur Iq 
connexion, barely becanse they were excited when the maa 
was in the same place ; and that if such ideas are disposed to 
run together, it is owing to some other cause. 

Putting aside all things w.thout the skull, and going into the 
sensorium, we shall find but two kinds of relations between its 
tendencies, objective and timal.^ 

It IS true, that two or more tendencies may be equally 
strong ; in this respect they agree; h\\{ they are not on this 
account related, A man may have an hundred sensorial ten- 
dencies of equal strength ; hut if the tenth become operative, 
the corresponding action of the eleventh is no more likely to 
follow than that of the ihirtieth, fortieth, or any other, provi- 

*We can offer no apology for using ihese two words, only that 
they a[)ppar lo be very C(»nvenieut The na ler CHim<»t mistuke 
their njeauii.g When ideas are related because ihey have occur- 
red together one or more linT^s, their relation i^ limat ; when re- 
lated by way of their objects, their relation is objeciive. 



200 

^Icd there be no relation between these hundred tendencies, 
exs:ept \he\r beinq of equal strength. 

Suppose all (he sensorial tende'icies which a man possesses 
were of equal strength, but there is nothing of what we call 
relation between them ; then his thoughts would occur pro- 
miscuously — ^the particular thought, A, would just as likely 
be succeeded by the ihougtit L, F, X, or any other thought, 
as by the thought B, or any other particular thought. But 
when we say sensorial tendencies are not re'ated, merely on 
account of their agreeing as to strength, it must not be sup- 
posed that the succession of a man's thoughts is no ways influ- 
enced by the strer.gth of his tendencies ; for, putting aside 
impressions u[)()n the senses, the succession of a man's 
thoughts is governed by two things only, and strength of ten- 
dencies is one of them : their relations with each other is the 
o'her. — Let us suppose there are three thoughts. A, B, C, 
equally related, (related by way of their tendencies.) but that 
the strength of their respective tendeiicies is different, that of 
A being equal to 2, as we will say ; that of B equal to 3, and 
that of C equal to 4- Now if any thing suggest the thought 
Aj the thought C will immediately foilow in preference to the 
thought B, because, although no more closely related to the 
thought A than is the thought B, there is a stroiiger tendency 
of the sensorium to thiidc fhis thought, or to act this action, 
than there is to act that action which constitutes the thonghi B. 

if the sensorium were not disposed to think those thoughts 
in connection which are in some way or other related, or 
rather, if our thoughts were not related (for indeed, we should 
not say our thoug'its are related onsy that we find they occur 
in some ki id of order) we should not be intelligent beings, — 
we mi^hi be sentient, preceptive, ana even thinking heings ; 
but oar thinking would consist in harino; incoiigrnous thoughts 
occur, without -dMy kind of order.— The sensorium having a 



201 

few tendencies stronger than the rest, these tendencies, only, 
would be continually giving rise to actions just as it happens. 
It is owing to the disposition of the sensorium to act those 
actions in connexion, which it has previously acted thus, that 
we are enabled to make use of language, or signs. The writ- 
ten or spoken word, Johriy may excite a notion of a man, a 
certain man because that sensorial action which constitutes 
(in part) di perception of the word John, has before been excit- 
ed, or has before occurred, in connexion with the sensorial 
action which constitutes, in part, a perception of a man, a 
certain man. If these two sensorial actions were not dispos- 
ed to occur in connexion the seeing or hearing of the word 
John, might be immediately succeeded by a notion of a trian- 
gle, or of any thing else you may please to mention. 

Were it not for this disposition of the sensorium, neither of 
those modes of thinking which we call, remembering, judging, 
and imagining, would be found in us. We should have no 
substituted ideas. The word London would not call up an 
idea of a cluster of buildings. We should be as much below 
beasts in point of intelligence as beasts are now below us— • 
When we get through with the intellectual phenomena the 
reader will be prepared to agree with us, when we say, it is 
probable that so far as the functions of the sensorium alone 
are concerned, beasts differ from men in the strength or per- 
feet ion (neither word suits us) of their associating principle, 
by which ambiguous expression we mean, the disposition or 
tendency of the sensorium to think those thoughts in connex- 
ion, which are in any way related. 

This disposition of the sensorium is also a sourse of pleasure 
as well as of pain to us. We have painful and pleasurable 
thoughts, as well as painful and pleasurable sensations ; that 
is, we have conscient actions of the sensorium alone which. 

we call painful or pleasurable, as ttie case may be, as well as 

26 



202 

actions of the nerves and the sensorium, or of the Rerve& 
aloue, which we call pleasurable or painful. Besides these 
actions of the sensorium we have many of an intermediate 
nature, which we may call neutral, as to pleasure or pain, 
since, of themselves ihey constitute neither the one nor the 
other. Now if a. pleasurable or painful action occur ip con- 
nexion with one of these neutral actions, a timal relation is 
formed between them, and all that may afterwards be neces* 
sary, to produce the painful or pleasurable action or thought, 
is to excite the neutral action. 

Some neutral thoughts may be related both to pleasurable 
and painful, or if you please, agreeable and disagreeable 
ones ; and when such neutral thoughts are excited or sug- 
gested, the agreeable and disagreeable ones may succeed so 
intermingled, as to constitute emotions which, taken as a 
whole, one can scarcely call agreeable or disagreeable. 

There is a cane which \ have often seen or thought of, at 
the same time I have seen or thought of my friend, — my friend 
is now dead, and when 1 see or think of the cane sorrowful 
thoughts relative to my friend and his death occur. There 
is a lady whose company has pleased me much ; and whatev- 
er excites a notion of this lady gives rise to agreeable thoughts, 
or recollections, I care not which you call them, since every 
body knows that by giving one thing two names, you do not 
make two things of one. 

]t is ill manners to cause to occur, disagreeable thoughts or 
emotions, in any one in company with you ; hence, owing to 
the disposition of the sensorium, to think those thoughts in 
cownexion which are any way related, it is ill manners to men- 
tion any thing which has any relation to a subject which any 
one prtsenl cannot think of but with disagreeable emotions. 

A man of thought and civility, in company with a lady who 
has been unfortunate, or with a person whose near relative 



20S 

has been hung for a heinous crime, will never say or do any 
thing, in any way calcuhleii to cali up an idea of her misfor* 
tune, or any thing calculated toexcite an idea ofihe halter or 
even of hemp. 

Owmgto this disposition of the brain, al^o, it may be con- 
sidered slanderous for one man to say of another, *'he ought 
to be carried out of town upon two chips !'' 

A knowledge of the sensorial tendencies shows the house- 
keeper that tio woman can be called neat who sets a tilth/ 
mess of matter by the side of any kind of food, even if it be 
known that nothing can be communicated from the filthy 
mess to the food ; for whoever sees these twj things in the 
same place, sees them at the same time, and hence acquires a 
tendency to think of them at the same time, and it is not agree- 
able to think of (ilthy matter when one is eating. 

It does not appear very strange to us, that actions of the 
sensorium. which are somewhat alike, (alike, I say, for like 
impressions — like objects, to appearance, excite like actions,) 
should occur in connexion ; and not at all strange that the 
sensorium should be disposed to act in connexion those ac- 
tions which it has previously acted in connexion ; for this 
fact appears to be much akin to many other facts with which 
we are familiar. Still the fact admits of no explanation. To 
refer it to the influence of habit, is not to explain it — to refer 
it to a law of the animal economy, is not to explain it ; — this 
law is only an ultimate, inexplicable, and general fact, of 
which the fact in question is an instance. And if we call any 
thing mysterious, this fact is mysterious ; it is just as mysteri- 
ous, and no more so, as it is that one body in motion should 
put another in motion by striking against it. But what we 
would more particularly impress at this time, is this ; That 
thought which is immediately succeeded by another thought, 
is as much a cause of the occurrence of this other thought, as 



204 

the motion of one body is the cause of the motion of another 
body against which it strikes. 

It is sometimes said that one thought suggests another, is 
the occasion of another, &c. ; this is all well enough ; it is 
but saying in other word?, that one thought is the cause of 
another. A thought is an act of that which thinks, be it what 
it may ; it is an event ; — but we have no events without cau- 
ses since the Deity organized the universe, and every event 
(every thought, of course,) which does occur, must as neces- 
sarily occur as an effect must follow its cause. This is a fact 
which the immateriahst cannot deny, admitting his fundamen- 
tal principles to be true ; unless he first refute the principle, 
unrversally admitted, that there are no events without causes. 
The sensorial tendencies are strengthened by intensity, and 
hy repetition of actions — We believe that actions of thesen- 
sorium may be of different degrees of intensity, as well as the 
actions of other agents, and the more intense any action of the 
sensorium may be, the stronger tendency does it produce to- 
wards its recurrence. As to frequency of action or repeti- 
tion of action, every body knows that the more frequently, or 
the more times, be thinks any thought, or chain of thoughts, 
the more apt is he to think such thojights again. 

The sensorial tendencies mav be weakened or even de- 
stroyed by whatever may impair the healthy condition of the 
brain. Diseases, accidents, intemperance, and old age, may 
do this, and are said to v^^eaken, impair, or destroy the "" me- 
mory." 

But it is not to be forgotten, that there is a wide diiference 
between weakening or destroying the sensorial tendencies, 
arid choking them. — A man receives an injury of' his head ; 
some piece of bone or some effusion of blood compresses the 
brain, (consequently the sensorium,) so that the thoughts or 
€onscieut actions of the sensorium cannot take place ; the 



205 

man is in a comatose or sleeping state, and for the time being 
he is dead as to all perception or thinking as he ever will be ; 
but after a time, either by an artificial or natural process, 
this pressure is removed, and the brain begms to think again, 
and to think the same thoughts too, and the sanre chains or 
trains of thoughts that it did before the injury. This proves 
that the sensorial tendencies were not destroyed by the inju- 
ry, but only choked or counteracted ; — the sensorium was so 
compressed that it could not act, though it still possessed its 
tendencies to act. 

In some instances, an injury of the brain is partly but not 
entirely removed. In such cases the man may see, but not 
hear, or may hear and not see ; he may be insane, that is, his 
thoughts may occur in odd, unnatural relations, or he may not 
be able to think at all until his sensorium have acquired new 
tendencies. If we mistake not, there are instances on re- 
cord of persons recovering (in part) from diseases and inju- 
ries, who could not think a single thought until they had ac- 
quired new tendencies by impressions upon the senses, and 
yet succeed very well in acquiring a new education. In 
such cases we should be pretty positive that ail old tenden- 
cies were destroyed, were it not for the fact, that old tenden- 
cies have been choked by some lurking clog in the brain, for 
years, and yet become operative after such clog is removed. 

We have somewhere read of a man who learnt two langua- 
ges, and being taken sick, he couid not, on recovery, recol- 
lect but one of them for several years ; but at length he be- 
gan to have notions of the words of the other language, and 
these notions were succeeded by notions or ideas of the 
things which these words represented, or in other words, the 
man began to remember the other language. Now the rea- 
son why the man, on recovery, could remember oue language 
and not the other, was undoubtedly this : — The tendencies 



f06 

relative to the language which he could recollect, were 
stronger than the tendencies relative to fhe other language j 
and all the tendencies of his sensorium were so far choked, 
obstructed, or counteracted, (neither word exactly suits,) that 
the weaker could not give rise to actions. 

A fall, a blow upon the head, or a fright, sometinnes removes 
the lurking clog in one's brain, enabling it to perform all its 
intellectual functions as before it received any injury. 

There are many facts which seem to show that the brain 
may suffer a greater degree of injury in what we may call its 
physical organization, without destroying its functions, if 
such injury be produced gradually, than it may if the same 
apparent injury be produced suddenly. 

As to oli age, it is probable thai it operates, not so much 
by destroying old tendencies as by disenabling the brain for 
acquiring new ones ; for those tendencies which were acquir- 
ed in youth, and which have been strengthened by repetition 
of action through a long series of years, may become opera- 
tive, when the impressions of yesterday produced such weak 
tendencies ; that thej will not become operative to-da}^, on 
any occasion whatever, short of the reapplication of the im- 
pressions, and then, indeed, it is not the tendencies of the 
sensorium that give rise to the sensorial actions, but the im- 
pressions which excited these same actions yesterday. 

The sensorial tendencies are nothing distinct from that 
part of the brain which we call the sensorium. If the senso- 
rium be removed or destroyed, these tendencies go along with 
it. When all the tendencies produced by witnessing an event 
are annihilated, the person can no longer recollect the event. 

Now it is generally supposed that all parts of our bodies 
undergo changes, the old matter of the system being very 
gradually taken up by absorbents, and new matter as gradual- 
ly deposited in its stead j so that in the course of seven, ten. 



207 

•p fiffeen yeari, (no one pretends to state the time exactly,) 
the old matter of one's system is all changed for new. 

If this supposition be correct, it follows that none of the 
particles of matter which composed my sensorinm fifteea 
years ago, constitute any part of it at the pre.-?ent time ; but I 
can remember events which I witnessed more than fifteen 
years ago. Some may think this fact argues against our 
principles, but we think not. 

We will admit, for the present, that the sensorium under- 
goes such changes as to be constituted entirely of new matter 
as often as once in seven years ; — we shall be under the ne- 
cessity of making no irrational suppositions to reconcile the 
fact, that an old man may remember the events of his youth, 
with our principles. All that is necessary to produce a ten- 
dency of the sensorium to act any action, is to have this ac- 
tion occur one or more times ; no matter by what means or 
in what way it is caused to occur. Now suppose the senso- 
rium have a tendency to act a certain action, and now sup- 
pose again, that a few of the particles which enter its struc- 
ture are removed ; — the tendency to act this action is not de- 
stroyed — to say the most, it is only weakened, and the action 
may again recur, renewing the strength of the tendency to- 
wards its recurrence ; and in this way the tendencies of the 
sensorium may be kept good, although the old particles of 
which it is organized are gradually changed for others. 

The fact that an old man may remember an event of his 
youth, argues nothing against our principles, until two things 
be established. First, that the sensorium does undergo such 
changes as we have admitted, as often, we will say, as once 
in seven years. Second, that during these seven years 
(or we will even say three of them,) the old man who remem- 
bers an event of his youth, did not think of this event. 

But neither of these things can ever be proved, and, in« 



208 

deed, there is ao( the feast shadow of evidence in favor of one 
of them, and very little in favor of the other. There is no 
evidence that a man does not think of those events of his 
youth which he remembers when old, as often as once eve- 
ry three years from the period of his youth to that of his 
old age. 

Not a day passes in which we do not think of hundreds of 
events without being able, at night, to say that we have or 
have not thought of such events. A man may think of an 
ev^nt of his youlh a thousand times a year, and not be able 
to say at the year's end, that he has thought of it once» He 
is not likely to remember that he has thought of it, unless he 
thought of it on some momentous occasion, as for instance, 
when one of his old friends and playmates called on him, and 
talked over the scenes which they witnessed while young. 

As to thesensorium undergoing such changes as are brought 
about by the processes of absorption and nutrition, there is no 
proof of it. 

The reader knows that lymphatic absorbents are found 
in most, if not all, parts of the body, except the brain, and 
these absorbents are supposed to take up and carry oflfthe old 
materials of our organs. Now the chief evidence (if evi- 
dence it may be called) in favour of the brain having lymphat- 
ic abs'orbeats, is merely analogical — most parts of the body 
possess surh absorbents, and it is infered that the brain does. 
But the acutest anatomists of every age that has gone before 
us, with all their nice instruments and magnifying glasses, 
have not been able to discover a single lymphatic vessel of 
the brain ; and as the brain is a large viscus which receives 
a great proportion of blood, and as its lymphatic absorbents 
(if it had any) would probably be collected into considerable 
trunks so as to pass out at souie ot the few outleib of the skuli j 



209 

this inability to discover any proper absorbents of the brain, 
is very strong evidence that the brain has no such absorbents* 
It is true that the veins may, and do absorb liquids from va- 
rious parts of the l)ody ; — the veins of the brain may absorb 
water from the ventricles. The veins may absorb adventi- 
tious fluids applied to a wounded surface, or even to the 
sound integuments ; at least, we will admit so much; but 
there is not a single fact, pathological or experimental, that 
tends to show that the veins eat down, as it were, and carry 
off the solid fabric of our bodies— Tliis is undoubtedly a pe- 
culiar function of the lymphatics. The brain never pines 
away during sickness. 



-00- 



CHAPTER XIV. 

On Rcmemherins;* 

To have conscient actions of the sensorium recur without 
impressions, is to think, and to think is essentially the same 
as to remember. 

To remember any thing, is to think more than one thought 
relative to this thing. 

I see a man ; this supposes one action of my sensorium, 
(that is, if my seeing is not a mere sensation, but a percep- 
tion) ; I think of his name, his home, his father, his occupa- 
tion, he', ; this suppo.-ses olher actions of my sensorium. 
Sometime after, in a distant land, this man again presents 
himself before my eyes, and excites the same single action of 
my sensorium that was excited when I before savv the man- 
excites that action which, if it recur without impression, 

that is, when the man is absent, constitutes what the school- 

27 



210 

men call a cofiception of the man ; but to hnve this arfif>n eX' 
cited, is not (o remeniher the man. The man says to me, 
" my name is Bartlett ;" hdt if the action excited in my brain 
by his pronouncing this wcrd, not the action excited hy seeing 
the man. do not call up some other action, such as constitutes 
a notion of his Imme, or of his father, or ofsomethin"; else re- 
lative to him, it cannot properly be said tliat I renr ember the 
man. So, on the other liand, if a certain man's name he John, 
it cannot properly be said that I remember this man's name, 
when I merely have occur that sensorial act on which is ex- 
cited when I see. or that which is excited when I hear, the 
word John, l^bis would be but to have an optica! or audial 
idea of the word ; but to remember ihis masi's natne, these 
ideas must be connected with others, such as an idea of 
this man ; of some place in which 1 have seen him. &;c. 

To remember an event which I have witnessed, I must have 
something more than merely an idea of an agent acting — - 
merely this would be nothing more than a conception. I 
must have an idea of the place in which the event occurred, 
atd of myself being there. But to remember an event which 
I have heard of, it is not necessary that I have a notion of my* 
self being at the place wheie the event is said to have trans- 
pired. 

1 do not think it is essential to the remembering of a past 
event, that I have what is called a '' sense of the past ;" yet 
•when one remembers an event which he has witnessed, cer- 
tain conscient actions of the sensorium will always occur, 
which constitute what we call a sense of the past ; and we 
shall presently attempt to show what tlsese actions are, or in 
other words, by what impressions they are excited. 

It is true, that in order to remember the tirne in which a 
particular event took place, one must have something more 
than notions of agents acting, and of places. Suppose an 



" 211 

event happened on the lOih of June, 1824 ; in order to re- 
member this particular tinne. one must have a notion of a day 
and of the marks or words, 10th of June, 1824, 

As to what constitutes a notion of a day, (not of the word. 
day,) so far as I can judge, when 1 have a notion of the sun in 
the east, over my head, in the west, and of going to breakfast, 
dinner, (fee. 1 have what 1 call a notion of a day. Neverthe- 
less, 1 presume that deferent actions of the sensorium, at dif- 
ferent times, constitute what goes for a notion of a day. — When 
I endeavor to determine what constitutes my notion of a day, 
putting aside ail ideas of the word, I find that it is something 
that comes and goes pretty quiik ; and I am not sure as it is, 
in these cases, any more than one action ofm^ sensorium, — 
perhaps that action which is excited when I go out in the 
morning and take a glance at things around — the arched heav- 
ens, the sun in the ea>t, and the terrestrial objects that may 
fall within m} sphere of vision. 

1 generally have a peculiar idea of an afternoon. It is that 
action of my sensorium which has been many times excited, 
when I have been in my father's west room, and seen the sun 
shining in at the windows. — When I undertake to determine 
what is my idea of an afternoon, I find that this action or idea 
always occurs ; and i cannot find that I have any other idea 
which can be more properly called an idea of an afternoon 
than this ; therefore I call this my idea of an afternoon. Per- 
haps some will determine that their idea of an afternoon, is an 
idea of that part of the arching heavens which extends from 
the meridian to the western horizon. But as for our having 
any thing but a substituted idea or notion of an afteinoon, or 
of any thing else that has never excited an action in our 
brains, we cannot. 

But what constitutes a " sense of the past ?" When a man 
remembers an event w hich he witnessed I ast fall, he has a s nse 



212 

of past ; now what constitutes this sense ? It is certain ac- 
tions of the sensorium that have been excited since last fall ; 
such, for instance, as constitute notions of a winter or spring. 
One's notion of a winter consists of such actions as are exci- 
ted by looking at white fields, by seeing cutters run by — bj' 
hearing sleigh bells, &;c. 

If a man witness an event and instantly become perfectly 
senseless, and remain so, I don't care if you say, ten thousand 
years, and then come instantly into the same thinking state in 
which he was the instaMl before he became senseless, he will 
tell you that he saw this event, but an instant ago j be will 
have no sense of any time having passed, from the moment 
he saw the event, to the moment he tells you so. This will 
he admitted, and it is proof that when a man remembers an 
event which he has seen and has a sense of past, this sense 
consists in having recur at the time, certain sensorial actions 
th. t have occurred between his witnessing the event, and his 
remembering it. 

Perhaps it may be determined that we have not mention- 
ed every thing which must take place in one's head to con- 
stitute a remembering a man, a remembering an event, &c. 
But if we have said enough to show that our definition of re- 
mem6erm^ is correct, we care for nothing more. We think 
we are advancing new principles, but do not pretend to fol- 
low out all the fine-spun speculations that may be connected 
with these principles. We only aim to convince that we are 
right in the main. 



213 

CHAPTER XV. 

On Imagining, 

We are too apt to think that every word must have some 
peculiar meaning. The word, imagination and the word 
imagining, are so incorporated, as we may say, into our lan- 
guage that we cannot conveniently do without them ; and it 
would appear rather presumptuous in any one to say that they 
mean nothing. Yet we will venture to say this, with respect 
to the word imagination ; and as to the word, imagining, it 
will puzzle any one to give it a satisfactory dttinition. It can 
mean nothing more than a mode of thinking which is not esseii- 
tiallij different fiom any other mode. When a man imagines, 
nothing more can take place in his sensorium, than one con- 
scient action after another, (it is admitted on all liands that 
whatever thinks, thinks but one thought at a time,) and this 
is what takes place when a man thinks, or remembers, or 
judges. 

We would have every reader endeavour to determine for 
himself, what goes on in his head when he does that which he 
calls imagining. He will probably find that he has nothing 
but real or substituted ideas of things, one after another ; but 
he may find that a very great proportion of his ideas are sub- 
stituted ; and perhaps we cannot define imagining in a less 
objectionable way than by saying it consists in substituting 
ideas. But there are objections to this definition, as well as 
to every one that we can think of, one objection is this : — 
We often substitute ideas when it would not generally he said 
that we imagine. To avoid this, we must alter the common 
meaning of the word, (if any body know what this is,) and 
say that whenever a man substitutes an idea of one thing for 



214 

an idea of another, be imagines. Let ns now see what goes 
on in the sensoriutn when a man substitutes one idea for 
another. 

We begin by remarking that every substituted idea is, in 
itselt", a real idea ; it is a real actiorj of the sensorium excit- 
ed by sonje object, which action constitutes a real idea oithis 
object, but when this jdea occurs in connexion with an idea 
of the name of some other object, it becomes a substituted 
idea of such other object, and is not a real idea of such ob- 
ject, and yet it is a real idea. J have seen a cluster of build- 
ings ; of course I can have a real idea of this cluster of build- 
ings ; and if this idea occur when I read of London or when I 
think of the name, Londouj I have a substituted idea of Lon- 
don. 

AVhen I say that, I substitute one idea for another^ T use 
such language as I am obliged to — it is the language of a false 
philosophy, and is calculated to deceive. The reader must 
kiiow from wliat has been said, that /, as a free agent, do 
nothing, — / don't " will" an idea, / don't substitute one idea 
for another ; but rather, an idea of one thaig occurs in me, 
in connexion with an idea of Xhename of another thing; and 
this is all that constitutes a substituting of an idea of one thing 
for an idea of another thing — this is all tliat constitutes an 
imagining how thie otlier thirjg looks. Our metaphysical 
vocabulary is full of nonsensical words and expressions. Let 
every man '^ turn his thoughts inward" and not be deceived. 

A man may say that he can imagine a horse standing upon 
the top of a houst.^ altliough he never saw such a sight. Let 
us examine this matter. 

In the tirst place we may put aside the word imagine, with- 
out any prejudice to the sense of the sentence, and say : — 
*'he can have an idea o( a horse standing upon the top of a 
house." Now if this man have any knack at examining his 



215 

idea?, be will find that he does not have an idea of a horsey 
at the same instaot he has an idea of the louse. He may 
have one single instantaneous idea cf something large at the 
boliom and little at the top, for he has seen manj such things, 
he has seen houses with chimnies exierjding out above the 
roof, and he has seen several other things upon the top of 
houses ; but he cannot have a real, and of course distinct^ 
idea of a horse upon the top of a house and such idea of the 
house at the sanne tinrie. However it is the easiest thing in 
the world, to taik and write about a horse upon the top of 
a house, and while a man is doing this he has time to have 
real and distinct ideas of a good many things. But this talk- 
ing and writing are something more than what goes on in the 
brain, — we are o.nly endeavouring to show what goes on in a 
man's sensorium when he is said to imagine. And we do not 
hesitate to give it as our opinion, that when a man has what 
he calls an idea of a horse upon the top of a house, no individ- 
ual action of his sensorium occurs, which has not, sometime 
or other, been excited by an impression upon the senses. 

Perhaps some may say that imagining consists in discover- 
ing new relations between things ; but by this expression they 
can mean nothing more than that ihe imagining person thinks 
of some relation between things which no one ever thought of 
before — the relation itself is as old as those that were thought 
of years before. 1 never thought of any relation between a 
homely girl and a blacksmidi's leather apron, until somebody 
said they both keep the sparks off. Now he that tirst thought 
this, discovered a new relation^ as the expression is, between 
a homely girl and a blacksmith's leather apron — he imagined. 
But what took place in his sensorium ? Surely, no new ac- 
tion, no new thought ; but old actions in a new ordfsr. This 
is all. And these actions did not take place in this order, be- 
cause the man willed them to, (surely no man can will a 



216 

thoupjht until he know what thought to wi^', ^nd by this time 
the thought is already present,) but because his sensorial ten- 
dencies were such as to give rise to them in this order. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

On Signs^ 

By signs, we here mean such motions, marks, noises, and 
bodies, as excite in us ideas of something besides themselves.* 

This is the best ^ne/iletiuitjon of signs that we can give ; 
but it may be said, in opposition to this definition, thai if, ia 
any man, at any time, the word dun give rise to an idea of 
the thing gun, then, according to this definition, the word dun 
is, in this instance, a sign of the thing gun. This we cannot 
deny ; but the mark or word duji does not generally excite, 
and is not generally intended to exnte, the idea of a gun ; 
therefore we do not call the word dun, a sign of the thing 
gun. Yet the word dun is a sign — it is the sign of a written 
or verbal request to a man to pay a debt. 

The motions which we had referrence to, above, are, for 
the most part, those of a person's head, lips, eye-hds, and su- 
perior extremities. The marks, chiefly those which we see 
upon paper, whether let ers, words, arithmetical fig^re^, or 
hieroglyphicks. Tiie noists, such as one makes when he 
talks. And ihe bodies, carved images or any other bodies 
that are used as representatives of something besides them- 
selves. 

*VVesomeiimps speak of idfasa-! b'ing excited, but it is not strict- 
ly c<rr ct ; sensatinns and perceptions are excited, but ideas are 
calleU up or suggesltd. 



217 

In treating of signs, we shall chiefly confine our rennarka id 
words written or spoken. We scarcely need (ell the reader, 
that bv written words we not only mean words made by a 
pen, bat printed words. 

We shall first attempt (o show hozo or why it is that words 
excite, or more properly, call up, ideas of things distinct from 
"themselves, and even absent from him, in whom such ideas 
occur. After this we shall show in what way we suppose 
words first got into use — in what way Adam aiid Eve came 
by their language. 

The reader knows already, that with us a thought, idea, and 
a conscient action, or simply an action of the sensorium, are 
all synonymous terms or expressions. He knows, too, that 
the sensorium is disposed to, or in other words, does think 
those thoughts in connexion, which are in some way or other, 
related ; and furthermore, that nothing relates thoughts more 
closely, than their occurring in connexion, that is, in imme- 
diate succession. 

Now if ! hear the word, ratile-hox.^ at the time the thing, 
rattle-box, is presented to my view, two actions are excited 
in my head, one by hearing the word and one by seeing the 
thing ; and as these actions are excited in connexion, noth^ 
ingmore may afterwards be necessary to call up that senso- 
rial action which constitutes an idea of the thmg than Ihe noise 
or sound, which is made by pronouncing the word. So on 
the other hand, nothing more is wanting to call up that audial 
action of the sensorium which was excited by this sound, than 
a sight of the thing rattle-box. Again: The written word 
rattle-box is as much a visible thing or object as the box it- 
self, and if this word be pointed out to me, at a time when I 

*I shall frequently usp the expit-ssion ' he^r -a word," instead of 
"hear a wurd pronounced," as it is shorter and mure convenient, 

28 



218 

hear it pronounced, on optical action of my sensorlnm rs ex- 
cited in connexion with an audial, which optical action is dif- 
ferent from the one excited when I saw the thing rattle-box. 
And it may now be said that mj sensorium possesses three rat' 
tie-box-tendencies, which are very closely related. One ten- 
deiicy is to act that action which constitutes an fdea of th6 
thing rattle-box ; anothei tendency is to act that action which 
constitutes an audial idea of the word rattie-box ; and the third 
is a tendency to act that action which constitutes an oplical 
idea of the word rattle-box — an idea, thought, conception, or 
thinking view^ of the marks, rattle box, as they here stand. 

The first tendency is related to the second, and by wai^ of 
the sexond, to the third, inasmuch as, by supposition, i nev« f 
sail' the word rattle-box, until 1 had heard the word and seeij 
the thing rattle-box. 

Now as these three tendencies are related, when either 
of them gives rise to its action, the other two may instantly 
do the same ; hence an impression which excites, or a thought 
which suggests that sensorial action which constih.ites, in the 
first case, a part of a perception^ and in the latter, an idea of 
a rattle-box, may cause to occur two other sensorial actions 
relative to a rattle-box ; the one such as is excited by hearings 
the other, such as is excited by seeing, the ti^orr^ rattle-box. 
So on the other hand, whatever may cause to occur, either of 
the«e two sensorial actions, may be followed by an idea of 
the thing rattle-box. 

From what has now been ?aid, we see that if A be a sign of 
B, then is B, also a sign of A ; and if B is a sign of C, then 
is A an indirect sign of C. The thing ox is a sign of the word 
ox, as well as this word, a sign of the thing ox. that is, in the 
broad sense of the word sign; but as the thing ox, is not 
generally intended to represent the word ox, it is not a sign 
of this word, in the restricted sense in vyhich we generally 



219 

iise the word sign. Tf the thing ox be a sign of a yoke, then 
is the word ox, an indirect sign of a yoke. 

Any one thing becomes the sign of another, in the broad 
sense of the word, when these two things have often excited 
actions of (he sensoriurn, at the same time ; or when these 
two things have often been thought of, at the same time. 
Hence it is easy to see and admit, that what is a sign of one 
thing to one man may not be a sign of the same thing to ano- 
ther man. 

1 may have sometime dog a certain well, in doing which I 
used a pick-axe, day after day, and tho't of the pick-axe and 
the Weil together, time after time, so that now I cannot see, 
hear of, or think of, a pick-axe without having an idea of this 
well. 

There is not, perhaps, a man in this country who, if he 
were to plough up a tomahawk, would not instantly think of 
Iiidians ; but there may be thousands of men in other parts of 
the world who would not instantly think of Indians on seeing 
a tomahawk. If there be not. it is only because there are no 
people who have not ihouglit of a tomahawk and Indians, at 
the same time. 

The same word may at different times be a sign of different 
things, to the same person ; this is owing to its connexion with 
other words, and to several other circumstances, that might 
be mentioned. If a man should say to me, '" Do you recollect 
that John whom you saw at York ?" I should have an idea of 
large, dark cornplexioned man; but if he should say, *'Do 
you recollect that John who made your boots ?" 1 should have 
an idea of a short, light complexioned, blue-eyed fellow.. 

We scarcely need mention that signs call up sensorial ac- 
tions only, and not nerrous actions — thoughts, and not sensa* 
tions. If they called up, or re-excited nervous actions, then 
the sight or sound of the word Gout^ would produce excriici- 



2^ 

ating pain in the great toe of him who has had the gout ! The 
reader will be careful that lie do not here misunderstand us. 
When we say that signs do not recall nervous actions ; when 
we say the sight or sound of the word gout does not re-excite 
that nervous action which constitutes the pain of gout, we do 
Dot mean that this sight or sound excites no action of the op- 
tic or auditory nerves, as the case may be. Altho' a view of 
the word ox does not excite that action of the optic nerves 
which is excited when we see an ox, we do not say it excites 
no action of the optic nerves. 

As we much more frequently hear words than see them, we 
believe that the optical action of the sensorium which is ex- 
cited by seeing a word, and which occurring alone [without a 
sensation] constitutes a conception of a word, never occurs 
without being immediatdy succeeded hy that audial action of 
the sensorium, which is excited when we hear this word spok- 
en. Yet when we hear words spoken, as in common dis- 
course, we seldom have conceptions of these words — seldom 
think how they look on paper : the sound of each word excites 
its own peculiar action of the auditory nerves (perhaps of the 
sensorium also, constituting a perception) and this action is 
followed liy an action of the sensorium which constitutes a no- 
tion of some object, and not by an action which constitutes a 
conception of such word written on paper. We think that no 
person will find much difficulty in satisfying himself, that the 
Opinions we have here advanced, are true. 

He will find that when he reads to himself, making no noise 
with his lips, he has audial ideas of the words which he looks 
at : he will find that when he reads along and comes to the 
word John, he does not experience the same that he does 
when he hears this word—no, not So ; but he will find 
that he experiences the same that he does when he has 
what he calls an idea of the voice of one whom he has 



221 

beard speak the word John, He will find that what he expe* 
riencps does not more widely differ from a hearing of the woM 
John, than his optical idea or conception of John himself 
ditfers from a seting of John. He wil* find, also, that the aw 
dial actions of the sensorium which take place in hitrj while 
perusiiig a book, are immediately^ and of coarse very instanta* 
iieousiy succeeded by optical notions of objects naentioaed in 
the book. 

But every person may find that when he listens to hirn 
\vho is telhng a story, he does not generally have conceptions 
of the words which the story teller uses ; hut that all his con- 
ceptions are of objects mentioned or suggested by the story 
teller ; which conceptions may be real or substituted. 

We lay it down, then, as a general fact, that the seeing of 
a word is almost invariably succeeded by that sensorial aitioa 
which constitutes, an idea of the sound of such word ; but 
that the hearing of a word is not generally succeeded by llint 
sensorial action which constitutes a conception of it. Why 
it is so, we do not certainly know, but guess it is this ; When 
we first went to school, and began to learn our letters, and to 
read and spell, we seldom saw a word without hearing it pro^ 
nounced at the time; and furthermore, no word was then a 
sign of a thir!g to us, until we had heard it pronounced ; but 
before, during, and after our first going to school, we have 
very frequently ticard words pronounced, and at the same 
time seen the things of which they are names, when we did 
not see these WDrds. 

We are now about to offer an opinion, which may at first 
appear irrational, but which we believe will, sometime or 
other, be generally admitted as true. It is this : 

AVhen a person who is familiar to ith the words^ reads a book 
or hears a siory, perceptions are very rarely excited in hsm. 

The reader must have a correct notion of what we mean 



.9 '?■?>• 



by a perception. He must conceive of the sensorium as nu 
active little organ, situated somewhere about the centre of 
the brain, possessing many tendencies to act, and continually 
at 1^, wheti the man is awake; and that it is the organ which 
thinks. He must remember, too, that five kinds of nerves 
extend to, and unite with, this organ ; that an action of any 
one of these nerves ig a sensation, and that if this same kind 
of nervous action continue along into the sensorium, then we 
have a perception ; but if this particular nervous action. in° 
stead of continuing along into the sensorium, only continue 
up to it, and cause the sensorium to act some other action, 
vhicb it otherwise would not, we do not have a perception, 
hnt a sensation and a thought. 

For a more particular illustration, if I look at the word 
John^ an action will be excited in my optic nerves, which we 
call an optical action, and 1 shall have a sensation, a seeing of 
this word, if this optical action extend no further; but if it 
continue along into the sensorium, then I shall have a percep* 
lion, an optical perception, of the word John, If this optical 
action, instead of continuing into the sensorium, only extend 
up to it, and the sensorium, on this occasion, owing to its 
tendencies, take on that action which constitutes an audial 
idea of the word John, 1 do not have a perception of the word 
John ; but I have a sensation and a thought. Now we be- 
lieve that this is what frequently, if not generally, takes place 
when one is reading a book which much interests him, and 
which is written in an easy style and familiar language. He 
dont attend to the words themselves ; he dont think of them ; 
his sensorium is continually and uninterruptedly thinkitig 
about something else : it appears to act, as we may say, ac- 
cording to the knocks which it receives upon the outside, and 
not according to any gentlemen which come into the house. 
Yet when this reading man comes across a new and singular 



223 

word, or a wor3 printed in large capitals, be has a perception 
of siich word, and may, therefore, have a conception of it 
when he ge's through with the page and closes the book. 

However, it is a mere matter of judgment whether, when 
one reads an interesting book, every word excites its own pe- 
culiar action of the sensorium, and always must remain so 5 
for the instant we attempt to determine the question by ob- 
serving what goes on in ourselves, that very instant shall we 
have perceptiojis, and not sensations of words, or at least, that 
very instant do actions cease to go on in our brains, as they 
did before. And we must confess that we are nowise sure 
that one has audial ideas of words when he peruses a book, 
except wben he stops to consider whether he has or not, and 
even then, some may perhaps decide that they have, and oth- 
ers that they have not. 

But if we caiuiot determine whether a man al-wajB perceives 
words when he reads, except by considering [thinking of] 
facts, it may be asked what facts we think of when we come 
to the conclu?ion that he does not. Some of the facts, oi' 
more properly considerations, are the following : 

First. We know it is not impossible nor uncommon for a 
man to think and sense at the same instant 5 — we know that 
we can see an object, hear a noise, and think of something 
quite foreign to either of them, at the same instant ;— if we 
dont know this, then we dont know that we exist. 

Second. When perceptions of words have been instantly 
succeeded by ideas of objects, many times, it is not difficult 
to admit that these ideas may be caused to occur by mere 
sensations of such words ; and if we admit this, then we have 
the sensorium free to think of objects, without being every 
moment interrupted when one peruses a book. And it frees 
us from the necessity of adrnitting that the sensorium acts so 
exceedingly hvely as it does upoa the supposition, that wheit 



SS4 

one reads and under?tinds an author, every word of the au- 
thor must be/^^rc^zrec/ before it can suggest an idea of a thinf^. 

However, there are m;in)' words which are not the signs of 
anv particular entities, and when a person reads a string of 
such words, a great proportion of his sensorial actions are 
mere audial ideas, or ideas of sounds, and a large share of 
the rennainder, substituted, instead of real ideas. If the sight 
of the words the, on, yps. truth, honor, gratitude, &lc, excite 
any thing but mere audial ideas, such otlier ideas must be 
such as we call substituted ; for, surely, there are no such 
things as the, on, truth, &;c. in existence ; and it would be 
abs'jrd to say a man can have a real idea of a thing which 
never existed ; we might as well say a man has been to Jin- 
go, when there is not, and never was, any Jingo for a man to 
goto. 

As we have now been showing why it is that a perception 
or a thought of one thing may call up a thought of another 
thing, or in other words, why one thing may be, to us, a sign 
of another, it is a fit place to oifer a few remarks concerning 
brutes. We believe that, so Jar as the sensorium alone is 
m)ncerned, the chief, if not the only reason, why brutes can- 
rot use one thmg as the sign of another, is because this organ 
in them does not acquire sufficiently strong tendencies to act, 
' in immediate succession, tht)se actions which it has previously 
acted in such succession ; or, to use more convenient, but 
figurative language, because their suggesting principle \^ sd 
Vieak, 

But although the sensorial tendencie? of a brute may not 
much the more readily become operative together, merely 
on account of their corresponding actions having before oc* 
curred in immediate succession ; still it does not follow that 
their tendencies to individual actions ar^; uot as strong af 
l^ose of men* 



225 

But' whefhpr a brute's sensorial tenrloncjes do os readily 
become as strong as those of nien,* it is very difficult to 
determine ; for if the sensorial tendencies of a brute, to indi- 
vidual actions, should be as strong as those of men, still they 
mij^ht not become operative on such slight occasions, as those 
of men, owing to the weakness of the brute's suggesting prin- 
ciple. 

That brutes possess a suggesting principle, or in more cor- 
rect language, that those sensorial actions which have occur- 
ed in close succession, in them, are more or less disposed to 
.occur so again, is true bejond a doubt. Many an old experi- 
enced ox has been known to loll on a cold winter's morning, OQ 
seeing the yoke about to be put upoii his neck ; but why does 
the ox loll ? It is not because he is warm, but because? Ihe 
sight of the yoke &c. excites, or more properly su^gtsls, for- 
mer ideas. It causes him to think of his labouring in the 
field or on the road, and to think that his master has often 
ceased to drive him when he has breathed quick and short, 
and suffered his tongue to hang out. 

It is true that the ox's sensorial actions on this occasion, 
are quite ddferenl from ihc actions that would be excited by 
hearing or seeing the words winch we have used in stating 
what the ox thinks ; but tiiesc worclo are such as we are un- 
der the necessity of usiiig. 

There are some men who are already aware that we should 
be very far from being stich rational, intelligent, and conver- 
sive beings. as we now are, if o ir suggesting principle were 

*To und<^rsfnnd tlie exprt^ssion, 'as readily become as st lony n% 
those of mail." let the reader suppose that an icliun of the sensori- 
um of a bnite and of a mn), is excited ;>r su^^l^sied, in eac!r. jost 
S!X times ; now if, after this, one sensoriom is just as much dis- 
posed to act this sensorial n< ti(»n -a^Wh fjs the other, then we sny 
the sensorium of the brute, as VfAidi.'y acquires u strong leudeucy 
as the sensorium of the man. 

29 



2^6' 

on^ya little more deffectlve than what i< now is. Snrli mei 
see, alreHdy, how a httle diiference ir. this principle may give 
rise to the striking differttnces hcSween a i>tiipid fellow and a 
man of ui^ or a man of judgmeiit. Such men, loo. are now 
ready to admit that Ihe original difference between the intel- 
lectual powers of Adam, and the brutes around him. might 
be almost, perhaps altogether, owinii; to the diliercnce be- 
tween his and ihv\r sirggfsiii.g prwriple ; by which short and 
convenient expression, 1 tra-t 1 j^hail not be understood to 
mean ariv thing more than the disposition of the brain to 
tliink in connexion tho.-e tho^i^hts which are in any way re- 
lated ; and by this disposition, we mean nothing more ihaa 
simply the fact, that ihe brain does thir.U such liiouahts ia 
conriexion. Should there be any who canrjot concejve how 
a little diiferrence in the suggeslmg principle should be one 
of the grand, origirm!, or as we may sa) , fundamental, causes 
of the intellectual dstference between a man of wit and a stu- 
pid fellow, or betweeii a man and a bea^^f ; the} will, per- 
haps, be enabled to do so, by reading the chd{)ter on Judg- 
ing, to which I hey will s-oon come. 

It is generally said that words are marks, signs, or repre- 
sentatives of idea;-. This sayiiig has not been strictly exam- 
ined. Coticerning it much might be said. We shall merely 
remark that : — Ma ly words are more properly the signs of 
objects, actions, q lalities, and of relations between these 
things, than they are of ideas ; that mai«y other words are 
not the signs of any thing, putting aside the ideas of these 
words themselves — the word. Soul, we f|ass among this nunn- 
ber. And on the whole, as we use words more particularly 
for the purpose of making our fellow beings think of some- 
thing besides our ideas (which, by the by, are things that no 
man can have aii idea of) and as they answer the purpose for 
Tvhich they are used, we conclude that there is no ^reat pro- 



2^7 

piiety in saving:, without any reservr-, that word^* are the signs 
of ideas. They are more properly sig'is of things without 
the skull. 

We now proceed to offer a supposition of the way and 
manner m wh'ch Adtrn and Eve came hy their language, 
and to otfer a few r<*(n;irks concerning the way in which chil- 
dren acquire a use of rhe signs, the words, already in use. 

Suppose that the fir-t time AJam saw Eve, he met her 
with a large red apple in his hand : Eve had eaten ^uch 
looking apples, and found that they were pleasa^it ; she there- 
fore wishes to obtam tliis one : She approaches Adam, and 
puts out her hand to lake it froin him. Adam seeing he is 
about to lose his apple, withdraws his hand. Eve, at first, 
knows not that this m )tion has any particular meaning 5 but 
after making several attempts to take t!ie apple, and finding 
that Adam always withdraws it from her, she is led to think 
that Adam intends not to let her hive the apple. She, how- 
ever, makes one more attempt ; Adam now withdraws his 
hand, holding the apple, and at the same time makes a rioise 
with his vocal organs. Tnis noise is at first an insignificant 
sound to Eve ; b it again attempting to take the apple, or 
something else, and finding that this sound always attends the 
act of refusal, she at length thinks, as a child ivould, that Ad- 
am would have her to understand by the noise, the same that 
he does by the gesture. To satisfy herself as to this, she 
again attempts to take the apple ; Adam only makes the 
noise ; Eve is not yet satisfied ; Adam sees she is not, by her 
still persisting ; he therefore speaks louder, perhaps repeat* 
his sound, and at the same time repulses Eve. By this time 
Eve is satisfied that Adam means by his sound the same that 
we now express by these words — i^ou shall not have it. 

Presently Eve fi ids someihmg which Adam wishes to ob- 
tain, lie approaches Eve as Eve had approached him 5 but 



228 

Eve makes the same noise that Adam did ; and Adam knows 
full well what she means by it ; he knows tliat she means the 
same that he did. Thej^ are now agreed as to (he use of one 
souud ; and this may aid them in acquiring the use ofothers. 
Adam and Eve now walk about together, and when they 
come to a tree, rock, brook, or any other object, one points 
at it, and at the same time makes a noise, which noise, of 
course, becomes to them a sign of such object. — The object 
exxites one action of the sensorium. the sound or noise an- 
other ; and these two actions having been excited together, 
all that is necessary to suggest an idea of the object, whea 
absent from it, is to make the noise. 

At one time Adam jumps over a log. and at the same time 
makes a certain noise. Mete is an action, an event, and a 
si^n to denote this action, and henceforth, this noise may be 
followed by an idea of the event. 

Suppose, now, that Adam and Eve had pen, ink and paper, 
or what would answer the purposes of these materials, Ad im 
makes a mark, but to Eve it has no meaning, until Adam, 
pointing at it, m.ikes a noise; it is now to Eve a sign of this 
noise ; and if the noise be the same which Adam made when 
be pointed out a tree, it is also a sign of a tree, and of course, 
of the same use io Adam and Eve that the mark tiile now is 
to us. In thif. way could Adam and Eve go on and form, for 
themselves, a sort of language, which might, as we can easily 
perceive, be improved by succeeding generations, so as to 
become as perfect as any language now is. 

If this supposition of the way and manner in which our first 
parents acv'^uired a use of signs be correct, we see that they 
were enabled (odo -^o, because tbnt when two or more actions 
are excited in the sensorium at the same tnne, it becomes dis- 
posed to act these actions in close successio,) ; hence, if one 
of Ihcin be excited or suggeated, the others imcuediately fol- 



229 

low. Now let us suppose that our sen^oria or sensorinrns 
had been organized a little diiferent, so that they would not 
acquir<; ativ disposition to act two or more actions in close 
succession, merely by having these actions excited at the 
same lime. What stupid and defenceless creatures we shou!d 
have been ! Even if our ideas of similar looking objects h id 
still suggested each otlier as they now do. we could have had 
no signs that would have been of much use to us ; we could 
have had no language. The discoveries of one generation, if 
indeed they could make any, could not be recorded, or in any 
way handed down from generation to generation ; our race 
could make no improvements m any thing, the hundreth gen- 
eration being no wiser than the hrst, aiid instead of bringing 
every other species of animal under ou= subjection, we should 
have been a defenceless prey to every beast of equal strength 
and better claws than ourselves. It is tra'y wonderful how 
much depends on a little, m the works of nature. 

Ifweobser/e what takes place in children we shall find 
that they obtain a use of signs much in the same way that we 
have supposed Adam and Eve did. To pass over what takes 
place in the nursery for {he three or four fi;st years of the child's 
hfe, let us follow the little urchin to school. Here the teach- 
er calls him to him, takes his pen-knife, points to the first let- 
ter of the alphabet, leils hmi to look at it, and sounds in liis 
ears, .^, lie then points out B, and souiids this letter; ai>d 
thus the teacher proceeds with all the letters, commanding 
the little fellow to make the isame sounds that he does. I'his 
task the teacher performs many times, before such tenden- 
cies are produced in the chiid'^ sensonum, that an opticil 
idea of the letters, may occiir witlioit impression and be con- 
nected With those audial accions of Vae sensorium which are 
in the first place excited by tne piununcicition of these let- 
ters. 



230 

When a child is learning the letters of the alphahet, two 
IcindsofHC i !;is are excited in his sensorium ; one by way of 
the optic nerves, the other bv way of the auditory ; the lirst, 
as the reader knows, we call optical actions of the sensorium, 
to distinguish them froio the latter, which we call audial 'ac 
tions of the sensorium. Now when a child has thoroughly 
learnt a letter, the optical action of this (by which I rnean,ex- 
citedhy this) letter will be .mmediately succeeded by the au- 
dial action of this letter; or the audial action wiii (perhaps) 
be immediately succeeded by \\\v. optical, shouki the audial 
chance to occur first. It m aters not whetiier She optical or 
the audial actio-) be excited or suggested, in either case the 
one will be followed by the otiier. 

The child having le:;riit the letters of the alj>habet, the 
teacher turns to words. Lpt us suppose him to turn to the 
word MAN ; wfjat does the teacher do, and what goes on in the 
child"'s head when he is said to learn to read the word man ? 

The teacher points to the tir>st letter and says : What is 
that ? The child says, M. What is that ? A. What is that ? 
K. "Very we!!," says the teacher, "pronounce it," But 
the child knows not what the teacher rueans by "pronounce 
it ;" however, it sounds to hrn like a command to do some 
thing, and he looks the teacher in the face, to know what, 
Tlte teacher now pronounces the word, and the child soon 
learn? what he means by "pronounce." He will now tell oj0f 
the letters and pronounce the word. After a time, the teach- 
er shuts the book, and tells the child to spell man. But the 
child knows not the meaning of the word *'spell," and must 
learn it in the same way that he learnt the meaning of the 
word pronounce. After this the child can spell man, for the 
action excited in his sensorium when Ihe teacher puts out 
the word to him to spell, suggests a notion of the three let- 
ters MAN, standing together, and to spell man, he has nothing 



231 

to do, but to tell off these three letter as he sees them in his 
^'mind's eye,'' and then say, ma-i, as fie has often done he- 
fore, immediately after telling off (he three letters m a s. 

From this we see, that the action of the sensijrium, excited 
by way of the auditory nerves, when a word is put out to 
spell, calls up that action of the sen^orium which has before 
been excited by seeing such word ; just as the sight of a word 
calls up that audial action of the sensoriutn which has beea 
excited by hearing such word j)roao!inced. 

Our little urchin has now learnt his letters and learnt to 
read and spell the word man ; but jf this is all that he has 
learnt concerning this word, then it is to him, no sign of a being 
which talks, laughs, and walks upright, upon two legs, and 
it never will be until such being be pointed out to him, at the 
same time he is told, ''this is a man;" or, until he be toid 
^'that was a man which you saw pass by just now ;" or, until 
he have learnt the meaning of the words, talk^ laugh, walk 
upright^ two legs^ &r. and found by a dictionary that a man 
is a being that talks, laughs, and walks upright upon two 
legs." 

Before closing this chapter, it may be well to say a little 
concerning the origin of the word 507//; in doing which we 
shall give the reader a clue for accounting for the origin of 
many thingless names. 

To be brief, we will at once say, that men learnt by expe- 
rience ('he only way, in the bread sense of the term, that they 
come to know any thing) that there is an essential difference 
between animals and inorganic bodies ; and a wide, if not an 
essential difference between men and other animals. Now it 
is the same thing in different words expre'^sed, for a man to 
learn that there is an essential difference between two things, 
as it is, to learn that there is something in one of these things, 
which there is not in the other. Aad having learnt that there 



232 

is something in a man w] ich there is not in a block, or any 
oihcr inorganic body, it is the easiest tiling in the world to 
give this something a nanne ; hence the name soul, or mmd, 
to denote a somsethmg in man which is not to be found in a 
block, i^nd as every man learns that there is somiething in 
man and other aninr^als, which does not exist in any othei be- 
ings, it is not at all strasige that men should so generally be- 
lieve in the existence of a soul, or of souls, as they have for- 
merly done ; for having learnt that this something exists, all 
that was necessary for them to do, that they might be said to 
beheve in the existence of a sou!, was to consent to use this 
V'ord as the name of the peculiar something, which eveiy bo- 
dy knew to exist in the animal kingdom. So far, so good ; 
but presentlj men begin to speculare about the nature of this 
something, this soul ; and instead of considering it the ner- 
vous system^ possessing properties by virtue of its organiza- 
tion, and tendencies acquired by exercise, — -they considered 
it as something; superadded to, and dislinct from, the brain 
and nerves. Then comes the error — ihen comes the whim, 
or hypothesis without a shadow of evidence. And as there 
was not, in ancient days, one man in ten hundred thousand, 
who was not too lazy or too ignorant to examine, into the 
truth of this wh^m, and ex[)Ose its falsity, it is not strange that 
it was so generally believed that the peculiar something, the 
soul, which exists in animals, is something distinct from the 
irsnterial body which we behold. And as this belief has given 
r'se to language which can but serve to aid and perpetuate 
it, among people who do not examine the subject ; and as it 
is incorporated with almost all religious creeds, in support of 
which creeds, millions are yearly expended ; and as every 
man must now, as formerly, be convinced that there is a pe- 
culiar something within the skull which is not to be found out 
of i', — it is far fiom being astonishing that so many do, even 



2S€ . 

in the present enlightened age, helieve in the existence of 
souls or minds, as distinct thin;];s from the animal system. 

As every body knows that there is something peculiar in 
animals, and as this something is said, by those who pass for 
learned, to be a being distinct from the body — to be a soul ; 
it is as natural for the unlearned to believe in the existence of 
a soul, as it is for them to believe that the earth stands still, 
while the sun moves round the earth. And as astronomy 
alone has taught us the motions of the heavenly bodies, so 
must physiology alone, teach us the constitution of man ; — 
neither the one nor the other is to be learnt in any book writ- 
ten by the ancients. And as materialism must, and will be 
established, the prudent religionist will no more think of op- 
posing it with his Bible, or his Koran, than he does of oppo- 
sing the present system of astronomy by the same book — it 
would be like brit^ging an egs; against a rock. As christians, 
we would no sooner admit that materialism is opposed to 
Christianity, than we would admit that Christianity is false. 

As to showing how we come to have an idea of a soul, we 
shall leave the task to such notrible brains as that of Mr. 
Locke, (who has charged us not to believe in the existence of 
things of which we cannot form distinct ideas,) since we know 
(hat, putting aside our optical and audial ideas of the word it- 
self, an idea of a soul never yet existed ia our heads. 



■00- 



CHAPTER XVII. 

On Judging, 

That the reader may at once know the most important pe- 
sitions which we are about to maiutaiu iii this chapter, we 

ao 



234 

here stafe them, Thpy are the two following : — Fir^t, That 
judging consists in nothing other than in t[)inking over all 
thoughts (that chance to occur) relative to the subject or 
question concerning vthich we are said to judge. Secoiid, 
That to "' compare one idea with another," is an absurd ex- 
pression, and means nothing, unless it mean the same as, to 
hare these idpos occvr iu- immediate succession^ 

Toere is a penknife slampfd with the figures 1776^. One 
man believes this penknife was made in the \ear 1776. This 
is his opinion, because he has seen nsanj articles wl)ich were 
stamped with the figures denoting the year in which he knew 
tl ej were made. Another man judges that it was not made 
in the year 1776, because, lirst, it is now 1828, and penknives 
are generally sold, as d worri out or lost, in less than tifty-two 
years from the time they are made. Second — the year 1776 
Was an impoitatit year with the Unrted States of An>erica, as 
their independence was that year declared, and to keep it iti 
renriembrarjce, the Am.erican!? stamp, even at the present day, 
many articles which they manufacture, wnh the figures 1776. 
Third — this per-knife, not being well finished, appears to be 
of American manuta( (ure. 

Flere we see that two men have judged difFerenlly, have 
come to diflerent conclusions, as the expression is, concern- 
ing the age of a penknife, or the time when it was made. The 
reason why th»^y come to diiferent conclusions is obvious ; it 
is because diflerent fhouglits relative to the subject occur to 
them. The grana question now is, what goes on in either 
man's brain ? Does a. y thing more or less occur than th s : 
I'he sensoiiun) ihirks over tliose, thoughts relative to he sub- 
ject, to the thinking of which it has tendencies sufficieni'y 
strong to b( come operative on the 0( ca-ion ? Let no man 
be deceived by ambiguous words, or the authority of great 
men j let him leaituiber thai his opinioii cOiiCerning this 



235 

mattpr. is as good as that of a learned professor of Glasgow 
or of Edinburg. The field is before him; he can examine 
for himself; let him turn his thoughts inward, as Locke 
would say, and decide whether, when he judges concerning 
any subject, any thifsg more or le:?s occurs in him, than all 
the thoughts relative to the subject which may chance lo oc- 
cur. 

If any one say that any thing more occur, we hope he will 
be so very obhging as to inform us what it is ; but in doii.g 
this, let him beware that he make no tatements which 
will not stand the test of inqiiry ; and be so good as to ex- 
press himself in plain and definite terms, and not suppose a 
term is definite because it is very common, because it is fa- 
miliar to every one. 

Wc will venture to offer it as an opinion, that if precisely 
the san>e thoughts occur, it makes no more odds, as it re- 
spects the conclusion, in what order they occur, than it does 
in what order you add together the figures of a single column, 
as it respects the amount — whether you say that 7 and 3 is 
10, and 4 is 14, and 5 is 19 ; or that 5 and 3 is 8, and 7 is 15, 
and 4 is 19, or whether you think these numbers over Iq 
some other order. If we take the example of the man who 
judged that the penknife above mentioied was not made in 
the year 1776, what odds can it make in his conclusion, whe- 
ther his thoughts occur to him in the order above expressed, 
or whether he first think that such lookmg knives are made 
b} Americans, that the Americans, even now-a-days, stamp 
many things which they make, with the figures 1776, and that 
penknives are generally sold, and lost or worn out, in less 
than fifty-two years ; or whether these thoughts occur in sonie 
other order ? 

It may perhaps be said, in opposition to this opinion, that 
it often happens that one man makes ceflain &luleuieiits to 



236^ 

^anothert who does not understand him, who does not con- 
clude that what the man states is true ; and yet these same 
statements being made to hmi in a different order, he then 
understands and beheves. But it never must be forgotten, 
that when you state any thing to a man, and he judges whe- 
ther, what you tell him, be true or false, he thinks over a great 
many more thoughts than those marked by the words which 
you speak j and it is quite likely that by stating facts or false- 
hoods to a man in one order, you may not cause tlie same 
thoughts to occur in his sensorium, that you would had you 
stated the same facts or falsehoods in some othei order. So 
we are still inclined to the opinion, that all men come to the 
same conclusion on thinking over the same thoughts, let these 
thoughts occur in what order they may. 

Bat although it is not essential as to the conclusion, in what 
order the facts of data are thought of, or if you rather, in 
what order ones thoughts occur ; still it is probable that dif- 
ferent men's sensoriums are disposed to think over the facts 
relative to any subject, pretty much in the same order. This 
arisfs from the nature of things — from the way and order in 
which these facts were made known to them — there is some 
similarity between the courses by which men acquire their 
knowledge or sensorial tendencies, relative to matters and 
things. 

It is important, however, to correct judging, that the senso- 
rium have tendencies to think of all the important data that 
have any relation to the subject or question, cogitated about j 
or in other words, it is important that the man have a pretty 
perfect knowledge of what relates to the subject under con- 
sideration. With respect to the knife before mentioned, one 
man judged that it was made in the year 1 776, because it had 
these ti^ures upon it, and because he had seen many articles 
which he kaew were stamped with ti^^u res, denoting the year 



237 

in which they were made ; but his conclusion would have, 
been difft^rent, had his sensorium thought : — I. is now fiftj 
two years since 1770, and kmves are generally disposed of ia 
less lime than this : — many articles manufiictuied by the 
americans since 1776, are stamped with tliese tii^ures, &c. &:c. 
But as we will suppose, the^re were no sensorial tendencies in 
him, to think thus, he being entirely ignorant of the declara- 
tion of American I'.idependence, the liability of penknives to 
be lost or destroyed, &;c. &:c. 

If a man's sensorial tendencies relative to any subject or 
question, be, some of them, so weak as not to give rise to their 
respective actions when the man is called upon for his opin- 
ion concerning such subject or question, his conclusion which 
he will give, will be the same as though he had no such ten- 
dencies ; for a man's tendencies avail him nothing except 
they give rise to action. An ignorant man's opinion or 
conclusion, concerning any question, is as likely to be cor- 
rect, as the judgment ot him wlio does not think, let his sen* 
sorium be ever so full of tendencies or knowledge. 

Although we say it is a matter of little if any importance, 
in what order one's thoughts occur, as it respects theconclu^ 
sion ; we do not mean that it is a matter of indifference 
whether all the thoughts relative to a subject, occur in a cow 
nected order, or whether incGngnious thoughts are here and 
there intermixed ; that is, thoughts that have no relation to 
the subject under consideration. On the contrary, we be- 
lieve that if a judging process be any thiiig dilFerent, as we 
think it is, from what may be called simple apprehension, or 
simple, every day thinking, it consists in thinking over all 
thoughts that may occur concerning a qu -stion, in a connect- 
ed order, it mattering little in what order a^ to priority or pos- 
teiiority, if it oidy be a connected order. 

Nevertheless, in stating those facts and considerationi,, 



238 

wb'rh Imve led u? to a certain concJu^ion, we generally pre- 
fer some one arrangement to another ; bat this arises from 
the fact, that by different arrangements of the same words 
and sentences, we may suggest different thoughts in others. 
Yv'e endeavor to arrange our remarks in such order that 
the true force and meaning of one may not fail of being un- 
derstood for want of some knowledge that ought to have pre- 
viously been given. It wiii never answer to begin in the mid- 
dle of a story, unless we suppose our reader or hearer to be 
already acquainted with the first part. 

And if there be any difference between judging and reason- 
ing^, the difference is this : — When we reason we not only 
judge, not only think over thoughts relative to a question, 
bat we express our thoughts in an order, and for the purpose 
of convincing others. But in admitting ths difference, still 
it is essentially the same to reason as to judge, i<o far as it re- 
spects what goes on in the brain, bnting its motive actions. 

It appears to us that the oidy consideration which any one 
will even think of bringirsg forward in opposition to the opin- 
ion that when a man judges, it matters little in what order his 
thoughts occur, is this: if different men knowing the same 
facts concerning any opinion, undertake to convince others 
that this opinion is true, or th it it is filse, they begin and 
bring forward these facts, much in the same order. But this 
does not convince us ; on the contra r}, we fifid, so far as we 
can determine, that when we judge concerning any subject, 
our thoughts occur, as we may say, all about, just as it hap- 
pens. They occur much faster than we could express thenn 
by speech or by pen and it»k, and in such an order as we 
should not think of espressing them to others. 

We are aware that metaphysical writers have said much 
about comparing ideas, as though judgintj consisted in com- 
paring ideas oae with another, and clearly distinguishing any 



239 

difference thnt m^v exist between them ; but all this talk is 
nonsei'se, — it is worse, — it is absiird. 

We think that immaterialists have but two different noHons 
concerning the nature of idea> ; the one that an idea is some- 
thin«" distinct from the nr^ind ; the other, that an idea is 'd stale 
of the mind. Now it is granted on all hruuls, that the m nd 
can exist but in one state at a time, or, coiisidering an idea as 
something distinct from the mjnd, that there can be but one 
idea in the " mind's presesce chamber," at (he same time. — • 
To be sure, some speak of a " store of ideas," but these very- 
persons tliemselves krjow not what ihey mean, nor does a -y 
one else, unlcbs they meais the sensor'al tendencies. — N'^body 
believes that we can have but one thought, idta^ or act of 
that which thinks at the san^e identical instant. It is certain, 
also, that every idea is (in itself considered, and not consid- 
ered in relation to somethi )g else, or as the schoolmen wou'd 
say, abstractedhj considered,) a rtal idea, and must either ex- 
ist or not exist ;, and as only one idea exisfs at one time, no 
other idea exists at (he sasne i\me. Now, in the name ol 
common sense, how does one *itate of (he mind compare to- 
gether two other states (hat do not exist ? or how does one 
idea compare together two other ide is that do not exist ? of 
how does one act of that which thniks, compase together two 
oiher acts that do not exist ? or how does one state, idea, or 
act compare itstlf w.ih another state, idea, or act, which does 
not exist, or what is tiie sauiC thn>g, compare itself witii no- 
thing ? 

If we admit, for the sake of argument, that a man may be 
gaid to cc^Vipare two ideas, in any common aceeptation of the 
word compare, we must adaiit th;jt tins comparing is an act 
of that which compares — of that which ihiiiks ; and jfan ac- 
tion of that which thinks be not a thought, pray what is a 
tiiought ? lie that sajb il is a state, oi the uniiu, must ako ad- 



2^40 

mit that it is an act of the mind— must admit that when the 
mind is acting one action, it is in one state, and when it is 
acting a difTerent action, it is in another state, and so on. He 
will not be so absurd as to saj that, during the existence ofall 
our thoughts, (he mind is in an inactive state — that to change 
states, to act, does not constitute a thought, but that to be in 
a state, to be inactive, constitutes a thought. — Can an unex- 
tended mind, a mind which has no parts, be in as many differ^ 
ent inactive stales as we have difTerent thoughts ! 

Ifthen the very act of comparing be a thought, as truly as 
any other act of that which thinks, what, pray, does compar- 
ing thoughts — what, pray, does judging — consist in, but in 
having actions (or thoughts) one after another, of that which 
thinks ? 

But the truth is, when a man is sa'd (very improperly) to 
compare two thoughts together, and to be sensible of a differ^ 
ence between them, no third thought intervenes. To have two 
different thoughts in immediate succession, is to be sensible 
of a difference between them. This is the very nature of 
thoughts. If we could not say that we are sensible of a dif- 
ference between two thoughts, then these two thoughts would 
be alike ; they would, to all intents and purposes, be but one 
thought occurring twice. When we say we are sensible of 
the diflference between thoughts, we use such language (bad, 
to be sure) as we are obliged to ; but we must not be de- 
ceived ; we must not suppose that this being sensible^ suppo- 
ses any third act of the sensorium, or, as the immaterialists 
would say, of the mind. If I have an idea or conception of 
a sheep, and this idea be immediately succeeded 4ay an idea 
of a horse, I do not liave to compare these two ideas together, 
before 1 am sensible of a ditTereuce between them. An idea 
of a sheep and an idea of a horse are two (hflferenl ideas, and 
1 no sooner have them in close succession, than I am sensible 



241 

of a difference between them, as the expression is. No in- 
tervening action of my sensorium takes place ; there is, in- 
deed, no separate or third act, for the expression / 1 am sen- 
sible" to signify. 

However, by altering the common meaning of words, you 
can make out any tiling you please; you can make out that 
three times ten is not thirty, if you alter the common meaning 
of the word thirty, and say it is equal to seven times five ; and 
in thisvvay you can make oul, that when a man judges, he 
not only compares together things that exist without the head, 
but ideas with ideas. And as it is a common way of speaking, 
to say of a man, he compares ideas, compares one thmg with 
another, &;c. when he judges, it may, perhaps, be as well not 
to discard this form'of speech, but to show what the word com" 
fare must, in truth, signify, in the various instances in which 
a man is said to compare. 

If we compare two bodies that are present for examination, 
in order to be sensible whether they differ in appearance ^ the 
act of comparing consists in nothing other than in viewing 
these bodies on all sides ; and if there be any difference of 
appearance between them, we are immediately sensible of it, 
without any subsequent action of or re-aotion of the sensori- 
um. Objects that are different in appearance excite different 
actions in the optic nerves and sensorium — excite different 
perceptions •, and a sense of difference between our percep- 
tions, as between our thoughts, supposes nothmg more than 
that these perceptions are different — if there be no sense of 
difference between two perceptions, then tllese perceptions 
are, in truth, one perception occurring twice. To be sensi- 
ble of a difference of appearance between a hat and an ink'- 
stand, a man has nothing more to do, than to look at them, 
or to look at the one, at the time he has a notion of the other, 

or to have an idea (not a sight) of both, at the same time. But 

31 



242 

if a man have an idea of an inkstand to-day, and not an idea 
of a hat nnt'l some time after, it cannot be said that he has a 
sense of the dflR rence between an inkstand and a hat — the 
very essence of comparing two ideas and of being sensible of 
a dilTerence between them, consisting in having theee two 
ideas occur in immediate succession. 

Tf a man is to judge whether there be any difference be- 
tween two sounds, he has onl\ to hsten ; if the sounds be dit- 
ferent, they will excite, in him different perceptions; and this 
13 as much as to sjiay ihe man will be sensible of a ditferetice 
between the sounds. 

To beser.sible whether two bodies differ in weight we have 
only to handle them, to heft them ; if they be sensibly differ- 
ent we shall be sensible of it, without any further comparmg. 
It appears, then, from what we have been saying, that to be 
sensible of any sensible difference between perceptible bodies, 
nothing more is wanting than to have sn.ch bodies act upon our 
senses in close succession. 

However, if we are called upon to say Iwzd much any two 
things differ from each other, then sornelhing nsore is necessa- 
ry than nierely to suffer them to act upon our senses. If a 
cubic inch of gold and a two-inch cu])e of gold be placed be- 
fore a mar), and the man be requested to say how much the 
one will weigh more than the olher ; in order to answer cor- 
rectly, a little thinking mu>t go on in the man's head. Hav- 
ing learned thai both pieces are of the same quality, he must 
think : — A two inch cube is a body two inches long, two inch- 
es broad, and tw« 'inches thick, all its angles being right an- 
gles, and if the upper half be cut off, and either half be divid- 
ed in the middle of its length, and cross-divided in the middle 
of its breadth, it will be cut into four equal pieces, each of 
which will be a cubic inch, and if one half contain four cubic 
inches, the other half must contain four cubic inches ; and as 



243 

twice four is eight, a two inch cube of gold contains as much, 
wei-^hs as tiuicli, and is woith as much as i i^ht cubic incbes. 
We do not sa}' tbal he wiio is already a nnatbennatician, must 
think over ail these pait culars before he comes to a correct 
conclusion concerning the relative weights of these two pieces 
of gold : — 1 he tutoriwg of his brain may have been such a? to 
oive it a ready tendency to think at once : — A two inch cube 
of gold is eight times as large as a cubic inch, and of course 
will weigh, and is worth eight times as much. 

He that judges of the relative quantities of these two pieces 
of gold, is said to compare them together ; but what, we ask, 
does he more or less than think over, in a connected order, 
those thoughts or those data, or those facts, (it matters not 
which you say) that relate to the subject ? 

hi the above case, the facts which lead to the conclusion 
that a two inch cnbe of gold is worth ei^ht times as much as 
a cubic inch, are, as the expression is, self-evident — there is 
no dispute about them, men are universally agreed as to the 
meaning ol each word used ; hence if the judger think oi all 
of them, and not use any word in some new sense, the conclu- 
sion which he comes to, and which he expresses, must be of 
the same certain and indisputable nature. But if there he 
some error in the data — if the judger take that for true, which 
is not true ; and if lliere he not two errors that shall counter- 
balance each other, the conclusion must certainly be false. 

Suppose a man who does not know what a two inch cube 
is. were requested to say what the difference is between an 
inch cube and a two inch cube ; he might think : An inch ;s 
one inch, two is twice one, and hence a two inch cube is 
twice as much as an inch cube. Here would be an error of 
the judger ; it would be an error to think that a two inch cuue 
bears the same relation to an inch cube, that two bears to 
ene. it matters not what the cause of the error be, whether 



S44- 

it be owing to so much perfect ignorance, or to a slip of the 
man's seiisorium ; or, to speak in inteiiigible language, whe* 
ther it be owing to a toant of those sensorial tendencies which 
give rise to such thoughts (not to mention others) as we ex- 
press by these words : — A cube is a body of six eq la! sides, 
which join or meet at right angles ; or whether it be owing to 
the weakness of these teijdencies, so that the man thinks as he 
would if he had them not. — As we have said, an ignorant 
man's opinion is as likely to be correct, as the opinion of him 
who does not think. 

Jn all cases in which a man thinks erroneous data, the con- 
clusion must be false, unless the errors be such as exactly to 
countt ract, or counterbalance each other. 

For illustration, suppose a man is to judge how long it will 
take a liorse to travel from Templeton to Boston. The da- 
ta are : It is scvcnfij-two miles from Templeton to Boston ; a 
horse can travel six nnles an hour : — the conclusion is, it will 
take a horse twelve hours to travel from Templeton to Boston. 
But this conclusion, (hough correct according to the data, is 
in reality en( neons, because one of the data is erroneous ; — 
it is but sixty miles frosr* Templeton to Boston. Yet as we 
have said, two errors may be of such a n ture as to counter- 
act each other, and the conclusion may still be correct. Ifj 
in the above case, tlie man had not only thought that it is 
seventy-two miles from Templeton to Boston, but had thought 
that six is contained in seventy-two just ten times, his conclu- 
sion would have been, that a horse, travelling at the rate of 
six miles per hour, will go from Tem[)leton to Boston in ten 
hours, which, indeed, is the (ruth of the matter. 

As it is more important to determine what judgijig or rea- 
soning consists in, than some of our readers, perhaps, may 
think, we will adduce one more case in which it may as pro- 
perly be said that a man comes to a new conclusion byjudg- 



245 

ing, reasoning, or by connparing ideas with ideas, as in anj 
other. 

A man who believes in U^ee agency, goes to bed where no 
impression? are made upon his senses, and thiidis — " Well, 
another day is gone, and what good thing have 1 done to-day ? 
None at all. 1 ought to have wrought in the field ; I have 
some corn which I wish was hoed ; but my desire to go aiid 
see the shows was greater than mv desire to go to hoeing, so 
I went to see the shows. When there, I wished to keep my 
money, hut my desire for a glass of spirits was greater, so I 
took a glass ; then that ugly devil called me a (hief and a liar 
— it made me so mad that I could not keep my hands off of 
him ; I struck him and he struck me ; and now my face is 
black and blue from his blows. Could I help all this ? I 
could now ; I have leartit sofnethiug to-day ; 1 am not in all 
respects the same person that I was yesterday or this morn- 
ing. I can go to hoeing to-morrow morning, and even ad- 
vise others not to go to see the shows, and there spend their 
money ; but the question is, could I, in the morning, taking 
me as 1 was,.and not taking me as I should have been had I 
had a different mind or different desires, have done otherwise 
than I did ? I cannot see as 1 could, for it is a law of nature, 
consequently a stutborn law, thai every man act according 
to his predominant desire — that he do that (possible act) 
which, on the whole, he chooses, or what is the same thmg, 
has the strongest desire to do. Now all thoughts, all desires, 
are the children of two parents oi^ly, orgaiuzatioii and educa- 
tion, and our education depends on the impressions that are 
made upon our senses. These two things are the parents of 
all our thoughts and sensations ; and nothing is wantmg but 
a \iU\e penetration^ as the expression is, to convince any one 
that a man has no more absolute control over the impressions 
made upon his senses, than he has over his original organiza- 



24G 

tion.— Trnc, a mr\n may think — I will not go to that house of 
wickedness zvhcre I shall see so much vice — whei'e such peccant 
desire will be excited in me; and so not go. Bit should he 
think so, these very thoughts owe their existence to sensorial 
tendencies produced by former impressions ; therefore we 
shall find, by tracing every sensation, thought and emotion to 
its tirst origin, that nothing is more true than that man is tirst 
acted upon and then acts accordingly ; and that every im- 
pression which is made upon his senses, must as necessarily 
be made, as any other elfect must fjllow its cause. This 
being true, is a man a (ree agent ? I have always been taught 
that a man is a free agent ; and on thinking but httle about 
it, it has appeared to me that it must be so : I will novy com- 
pare the evidences or arguments for and against tiiis ques- 
tion, that I may see which class best accords with what I 
know to be ficts. 

" Well, then, in the 6'st place, from my own experience, I 
am led to believe, and every body believes, and indeed it is a 
fact, that there is no event without a cause ; that nothing 
acts nor ceases to act, uiitil it is caused to act, or caused to 
rest ; hence every thought and every oi'uev event which does 
occur, must as p-ecessarily occur as an effect must follow its 
cause ; for indeed it is nothing short of an effect of a cause, 
JNow the assertion that man is a free agent, is diametrically/ 
opposed to this fact. To be a (ree agent, is to be somethnig 
that can act without being acted upon — somethmg in v^hicli 
actions occur without a cause. To be sure, a man may do 
as he pleases, chooses, or has a mind to ; but this is saying 
nothing at all in favor of a man's {ree agency. Does he 
choose to do this or that without a cause ? if he do, then we 
have eve. its without causes 5 if not, then man is not a free 
agent. Free agency, I begin to think, is a peculiar attribute 
of ihe Omnipolent. However, let me examine what may be 



24t 

said OP the oilier s'cte of the question. -- 

, '-^- Well, I can't Uiiiik ot an} thing that 

can be said, which has the appearance of being in favor of 
the doctrine of free agency, except that God Almighty will 
damn men to all eternity if they don't do so and so, and that a 
man may do as he pleases, chooses, or has a " mind to." As 
to the first, I never heard God Almighty say that he should 
damn any one (o all eternity ; of course, it must be with me 
a matter ofjudgment whether he ever did.^ Now I have no 
doubt but that he will do so, if he said he should ; but I 
should not judge that he will damn any man eternally, when 
lie never did any thing without a cause — never d'd any thing 
but v^hat he must as necessarily do. as gunpowder must bura 
when fire is communicated to it. 

" As to saymg that a nfian may do as he pleases, chooses, de- 
sires, wif^hcs, or has a mind to, the whole means nothing more 
than that a man may have a greater desire to do one thing 
than to do another, and may (must) act according to the pre- 
dominant desiie. But as 1 was just now thinking, this is say- 
ing nott'ing in favor of nsan's free agency; for these desires, 
like every thing < Ise, must occur, whenever they are caused ; 
and to say that a man has control over his desires, is as truly 

* Lxceptiiig self-evident proposltioiis, and what we witness our- 
selves, ever^ diinji is a nuitler of ji-dgiiiMit If len men come to 
me iuid lell me that there is a cow ia n»y j^arden, J should no doifbt 
believe them, and proceed to drive her out. Bat why do I beheve 
them ? it is not because of my thing self-evident in the nature of 
tlie statement'; but because it is most likely — it much more fre- 
quently happens, as I have loutid by experience, that a cow j/ets 
inn* one's garden, than that ten men, or even one man, go to an- 
oilnr and tell hnn 'hat there ir: a cow in his ganlen when theie is 
Dot. If i knew such men tube a "^ei o( Iviuj;, tiickish fellows, dis- 
posed to put Ufion niH, and «' my garden weie fenced all around 
with a strung fence seven feet hii^h, and if 1 had jusi come out of it, 
aid locked the ot ly gale aiid had the key in my pocket, 1 should 
not beiitve that iheie is any cow in ai^ gardta. 



248 

though not as ohviously absurd, as lo say that a man has con- 
trol over his original organization — as to say a male might 
have been born a female, or might have grovvn to be a female 
after he was born, the power being uilhin himself, and the 
laws of nature being subject to such power. 

"A man has no absolute control over his desires, and none 
but the shortsighted will say it. To be sure, a man may de- 
sire to go to a house of lewdness, and there -hall be no mecha- 
nical impediment to his going, and yei he does not go ; but he 
that says that such man curbs or controls his desires, does not 
speak philosophically. The truth is, the man thinks over 
(not by the ''will," but the tendencies of hjs sensorium are 
such that he thinks over) all the bad ronsequetices of going, 
such as disease, self reproach, loss of character, loss of money, 
perhaps of life — he thinks how probable it is thai some of 
these evils vvill at'end his going ; and oa the whole, ab.hough 
his desire to go to said house be great, his desire to avoid the 
consequences of going is still greater, and so, instead of curb- 
ing or controlling his desires, he only acts agreeable to the 
strongest, as every body else does ; for such is the law of vo- 
lition. 

" It appears, then, that it is more agreeable with what T know 
to be a fact, [that there are no events without causes^) to say 
that man is not a free agent, than to say that he is; therefore 
I say that man is not a free agent." 

We have now supposed a case in which a man retires to his 
bed, where no impressions of importance are made upon his 
senses, and by mere cof^itation comes to a new conclusion con- 
cerning free agency. In this case it may as truly be said that 
the man judges, reasons, or comparts ideas with ideas, as in 
any other. But what goes on in his head ? It appears to us most 
clearly, that all this judging, r-easoning, or comparing of ideas, 
consists in nothing more or less than in having ideas relative 



^46 

to the question, (Ideas, which are of course disposecl to run 
together, for inasmuc h as they relate to the subject they are 
related to each other,) occur, one afier anolher. And if, by 
comparing ideas \he schoolmen mean having ideas occur in. 
close succession^ there is some (ruth in the expression ; but if 
they do not mean this, we must continue to say, (hat they talk 
nonsense, until (hey show us, disJinctly, what they do mean. 
From what has been said, it a[)pears, that those who talk 
about a judging, a reasoning, a guessing, or an intuitive " prin- 
ciple," meaning by such principle, something superadded to 
that which thinks, talk about that which has no existence. 

When any thing is reported to an assembly of men, some may 
think the report is true, and some that it is not. In such case it 
would be no uncommon way of speaking, to say that each man 
forms his opinion, by comparing the report with his former 
knowledge ; and different men lorm ditferent opinions, because 
they are men of ditfeient knowledge. Such language as this, 
though tigurative, is not absurd, it means something. Suppose 
that Asa reports that Ben, of Coik, has murdered David of 
that place. One man thinks this report is true; because he 
knows that such reports are generally true ; because he has 
been told that Ben, the muroc rer, is a vicious drunken ft'lh w 
and very quarrelsome ; because he has been led to believe 
that Asa, the reporter, wdl not lie or tell marvellous things 
merely to excite notice, &c &c. But another man thinks 
the report is false ; because he knows (hat Asa is a liar; be- 
cause he knows that Ben, notwithstanding what has been said 
of him, is a peaceable arid sober man ; because he has 
lately been at Cork, is well acqurtinled there, and knows of 
no such inhabitant in town as D,iv\d, 

In the above case, it may be sa^d that the men compare 
what they hear with wiiat they know, (it matters not whether 

32 



250 

they have heen taught falsely or ^riily, it is know to them,) 
and being men of different knowledge, they come to difft^r- 
ent conclusions. But this comparing consists in nothing other 
than thinking over one thought after another. 

But when men on hearing the same statements, conclude, 
some of them, that the thing stated is false, and others that it 
is true, it would be unmeaning, or at least, unphilosophical, 
to say that they do so because they are men of different '"judg- 
ments.-' It would, also, be incorrect to say that they come 
to different conclusions on thinking over the same fact> or 
data. 

In the first place, a man''s '* judgment" can mean nothing 
other than his opinion, belief, or conclusion; and to say that 
men believe differently, or have different opinions concerning 
any matter, because they are men of different judgments, 
Tvould be as nonsensical as to say that they have ditleivnt 
opinions, because they have different opinions. As to saving 
they form different conclusions from the same data, this is 
false ; unless we use the word data in a certain restricted 
sense :— they do not come to different conclusions on think- 
ing over the same thoughts. It must never be forgotten, that 
the statements narrated to any one in any story or bit of news, 
are very far from being all that such one thinks of in case he 
judge whether the main stor}^ be true or false. Every impor- 
tant consideration, relative to the subject, is likely to occur ; 
and every thing which has any bearing upon the subject, and 
V'hich the juJger thinks of, may, in the broad sense of the 
V ord, be considered as data to &u< h judger. We believe that 
all men, on thinking the same thoughts, on thinking of the 
same facts, always come to the same conclusion. 

We have said that judging consists in thinking of every thing 
which relates to the subject, in a coimected order ; but we 
would be understood, that this is important to correct judg- 



251 

ing. Whoever comes to a conclusion in this way, will never 
entertain a different, unless falsehoods have been or shall be 
imposed on him for Hicts. We are far from saying that a 
Jinn cannot judge concerning any question unless he be ac- 
quainted with all the facts of importance that relate to the 
question. But we would say that the more any man knows 
concerning any question, the more likely is his opinion con- 
cerning this question to he correct. When a man thinks of 
every thing he knows concerning any question, in a clear and 
uninterrupted order, he judges as well as he ever can con- 
cerning this question, until he knows more relative to it. 

It may be asked if men generally think of every particular 
fact that relates to a question, before they come to have that 
consciousness which we call a belief, opinion, conclusion, or 
conviction, concerning this question — before they feel a con- 
viction that the negative or atfirmative of such question is 
true ? We answer, no. 

Men often feel satisfied as to the truth or falsity of any thing 
stated to them, the moment they hear it ; and it is too fre- 
quently the case that they utter their opinion, and blindly in- 
sist on its being correct, before they have been at the pains of 
thinking over every thing that relates to it. The reason they 
feel satisfied so instantly, is this : they have previously thought 
of many facts relative to the subject, and in this way have ar- 
rived to certain conclusions ; these conclusions they, of 
course, hold to be true; (for this is only saying in other 
words, that they arrive to such conclusions •,) they hold them 
as principles by which the truth of other sayings are to be 
tested j and to test them they have only to think them in con- 
nexion with such principles. If the sayings agree with these 
principles, they are immediately sensible of it, on thinking of 
them in connexion with the principles; so if they disagree^ 
they are immediately sensible of it. For illustration *, It ic 



252 

with me an ultimate conclusion, a fundamental principle, that. 
the brain thinks ; but this coturlusion is the resuU of many 
years' study, hi arriving at it, 1 may have thought over tive 
thousand particular facts which have some relation to it ; in 
this way I may have first arrived to several minor conclusions, 
such as, — Thinking goes on it thi' head — Whatever affects the 
lower ceiUral purt of the brain, affects orie''s powers to think — 
■Animals luhose brams are less perfectly devtloped, possess in- 
ferior thinking abilities, ^"c. ^ c. And as a variety of particu- 
lar facts may have led to these minor conclusions, so iheise 
minor conclusions may have led to the grand conclusion, — 
the brain thinks. Now if any one tcil me that an immaterial 
thing lodged in one's brain, thinks, 1 no sooner hear him than 
I am sensible that what he says does not accord with what is 
with me a fact or principle ; hence I can inslanti}' say that 
what the man tells me is false. 

Again. It may be asked, if a man's conclusion may not be 
correct, if, while he is thijiking over llie facts that relate to a 
question, he chaticc to thiiik, here and there, many thoughts 
which are foreign to the question? We answer, I'o; but it 
will be said, how often does it happen that while a man is 
judging he is interrupted by questions and the like, which ex- 
cite thoughts foreign to the subject under cnnsideration ; and 
}et the man arrive to a correct conclusion! All this wegrant, 
but the truth is, after being interrupted in his cogitations, the 
man begins anew, and thinks all the particular facts over again, 
or else he had, previous to beir.g interrupted, summed up, as 
it were, all these particulars into a few minor conclusions, so 
that after, he has only to thitik of these conclusions in one sm- 
gle and uniiiierrnnted gl-tnce, to come to the same conclusion 
that he would if he had riot been interrupted. Hence a man 
may cog tate half au hour upon some question and not come 
to a final delerminaliou ; (our metaphysical vocabulary coil- 



25$ 

tains a surplu? of word?; ;) at this instant he may be interrupt- 
ed, and afterwards come to a final judgment, in five minutes. 

It appears to us pretty clear th;it in order to jud^^e correctly 
concerning any subject, a man must think of every thing that 
has any important bearing on the subject, in one single, and 
uninterrupted train, or else he must have the numerous indi- 
vidual facts sunmted up into mii.or conclusions, and must think 
over these conclusions in a like uninterrupted succession. 
Were it not necessary to think every important thought or 
fact, then a man migiit be ignorant of an important fact, and 
yet form just as corrccc a conclusion ; and if he could do this, 
we should, indeed, cease to call the fact important, as it re- 
spects the conclusioji. We are led lo think that aU the im- 
portant particular facts (or their equivalents) concerning any 
subject, or question, must occur in an uniideri^upted order to 
constitute a judging process, not only from finding (so far as 
we can determine by '' turning our thoughts inward") that 
this is what takes place in us when we judge; but from the 
following consideralions, 

F.rst. That which thuiks can think but one thought at a 
time, and if a man be caused to stop in the middle of a traia 
of thoughts relative to a question, and to think something 
quite foreign to this question ; then his train is divided into 
tvvo parts; one part of which is past and gone, and the other 
part of which is still to come. Now if the first part, or some 
conclusion arrived at by thinking over the first part, do not 
again recur in connexion with the latter; it seems to us as 
though the man's conclusion must be the same as if the first 
part had never occurred at all — must be the same as if the 
man were so ignorant as not to know the facts which he 
thought of in the first part of the train. 

Secoiid. If we grant, as we do, fhat what is called a judg- 
ing or reasoning process is dificreiit from wliat is ordinarily 



254 

going on in our heads ; W would puzzle us exceedingly to tell 
what this difference consists in, if we did not say it consists in 
thinking over every thing related to the subject concerning 
V ha h we judge, in a connected order. To think oferery thing 
in a disconnected order, would not constitute a judging; if it 
would, one might think of one thing relative to a certain sub- 
ject to-day, of another thing to-morrow, and so on, untilin the 
course of a week or fortnight he may have thought of every 
thing relative to the subject, and then be said to have judged 
concerning it ; although he may have not thought of two things 
relative! the subject, in connexion. 

Third. If a man, while reading a book, think of this, that, 
and the other Ihing which does not relate to the subject be« 
fore him, he does not obtain the author's meaning, and in or- 
der to do tfiis, must read I he page or sentence over again. 

What is necessary to constitute a good judger ? Several 
thi?)gs are necessary to constJtute a good judger. We will 
notice thret' or four. 

First. It IS necessary that the brain be a moderately active 
one ; that is, a brain in which one action, or one thought, 
proves the occasion of another which is pretty nearly related 
to ft ; and not a brain which thinks one thought after another, 
which thoughts bear only vevy slight and unimportant rela- 
tions to each other. If the brain be too active, or, to speak 
figiirately, if the suggesting principle be too active, thoughts 
are liable to occur when the man is judging, which bear only 
some obscure and unimportant relation to each other. Such 
a br^in, instead of thinking over in a connected order, all 
thonglns that have any important bearing upon the question 
under consideration, would skip off, as it were, to some other 
s ibject ; hence incongruous thoughts would, here and there, 
he popping into existence, dividing the true judging train into 
severai pa^s. But such thinking as this woaid not constitute 



2o& 

a clear and distinct view oi a subject. — Instead of not think- 
ing enosigh. such a brain thiaks too much. 

On the other hand, if the biam be not active enough, ma« 
ny impor'ant thoughts may not occur, aUhough these thoughts 
be such as have before occurred in the same brain ; and on 
tins account the conclusion may be as different from what it 
otherwise would bave been, as a chemical compound from 
what it would have been, had many elements entered into it. 
which did not. — VVils have very active brains ; reasoners, 
mo ierately active ones ; and blockheads, very dull brains. 

Second. To be a good judger, it is necessary that the brain, 
or more strictly, the sensorium, possess such tendencies that, 
on (he occasion, it will think all, or at least a great proportion 
of the thoughts that have any bearing upon the subject judg- 
ed of. In other words, knowledge is necessary to a good 
judger. It is a bad thing to have the sensorium possess false 
tt-ndencies — tendencies to think of things ditlerently from 
what they actually are in nature ; as if. for instance, one had 
been taught, and of course had tendencies to think, what we 
would express by these words: Gunpowder, if Sjwn, will 
come up and bear a new crop of gunpozuder. 

Third. It is necessary that the sensorial tendencies be suf- 
ficiently strong to become operative on the occasion. The 
se.isoriutn may be well orgafiized — may be naturally active 
esiough, and mwy possess a good number of tendencies ; but 
owing to its having acted but few times, these tendencies may 
be so weak as not to become operative when they ought to ; 
that is, the thoughts corresponding to these tendencies wdl 
nor occur, thougii naturaiiy related to other ttiougi.tj which 
do occur. 

We sometimes hear it said thit a man's judgment is warp- 
ed by prejudice. We admit \\\ .i there is >ome meaning ia 
this ambiguous eXi^ressiOu, and Wili briiig a case m whtch ifc 



25& 

innybe said that a man's judgment is warped by pre]'ndice ; 
in donig which we shall give our views of the nature of this 
prejudice. Suppose the passion of love to h^ive been excited 
in a man by a lady of fine acco;npli«hin(MUs, and in whose 
company he has enjoyed m^ny pleasurable emotions — sup- 
pose him now to travel untn some distant land, and there see 
a similar looking lady, of whose character he knows nothing : 
this lady, owing to the disposition of his sensorium to act in 
connexion those actions which are related, re-excites many 
of those pleasurable emotions which the man experienced 
while in company with the other lady. He would, oti this ac- 
count, be favorably disposed towards her; and if he were 
now told of any crime vvh^ch she had done, he would not so 
readily believe it, or, at least, if he did believe it. (as he 
would if he thought over the same thou^^hts as others who be- 
lieved it,) he would look upon it, as we may say, with a for- 
giving temper — he would th^nk v\hether or no she weie not 
placed under peculiar circumstances, and acted from better 
motives than is generally snp[)osed. The deed would not ap- 
pear so heinous to him — would not excite such a lively sense 
of disapprobation as though she had never awakened any 
pleasurable emotions in him.. The reason is liiis : even now 
the thoughts of the evil deed are niingleii withihe [deasnrable 
emotions, so that what he now exj>er;enres is not pleasurable 
emotions, purely, nor purely a sense of disapprobation. 

When a man v/i!l not hear or read arguments against doc- 
trines which he believes, or when convinced of his errors, he 
will not own it; we would not speak so favorably of him as 
to say he is prejudiced ; we would sav he is a wilful old hy- 
pocrite, determined to adere to his opinions, false or true; 
and professing to believe that which he does not. Surely, if 
a man profess to believe that a great proportion of mankind 
will be forever miserable in a future slate, because a woinaa 



257 

eat an apple some thousand years ago, when hp does not be- 
lieve so, why not call him a hypocrite, and say to hira, '^ wo 
unto thee ?" 

We are now about to enter on a subject which is render- 
ed rather abstruse by the laugunge which relates to it, 
and which has so long been in fanailiar use, that we catinot 
conveniently avoid using it. Tiie infl lence of language over 
one's opinions, is almost inconceivabie. Even those who 
are aware of this fact, and strive to rid themselves of this in- 
fl jence, are often most strangely bimded by it. We are per- 
petually haui»ted with the notion that every name must mean 
some thing, and that words and expressions which are, ia 
themselves, quite ditferent, must mean something quite differ- 
ent. 



■00- 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

On Belief. 

Before we attempt to define belief, or rather, before we at* 
tempt to show what takes place in a man's head when he is 
said to believe; we must say a little concerning the meaning 
of certain other words and expressions. 

We consider the expressions — To think — to think thoughts 
^-to think of things-— nwd to think over fads, or testimonies, 
as synonimous expressions, or so nearly synonimous thai we 
shall leave it to more acute thinkers to point.out the differ- 
ence between them, if they think it worth while to puzz!e 
their heads about it. And we hold that to think, means the 
same thing as to have thoughts occur f and ihe reader already 

knows, that we consider a ihoughi, and a conscient action of 

3:^ 



258 

Mie sensorium, as one and the skme thing. By incongruous 
thoughts, (an expression we shall soon have occasion to use) 
we nnean such thoughts as we should exjiress by what we call- 
ed, contrary terms or statements. Peter testifies that Johii 
Kendall was at his house last Saturday evening at eight o'- 
clock ; Goodell testifies that he lives twenty miles from Pe- 
ter's and that said John Kendall was at his house last Satur- 
day evening at eight o'clock, and that he stayed there all night. 
These two evidences excite in us, incongruous thoughts—- 
their te'stimonies are iiicongrucus, and they are incongruous 
evidences. 

There are two species of belief, sensorial or rational belief, 
and nervous or seutierst belief. 

Rational belief is that consciousness which exists when a 
man thinks over congruous thoughts or testimonies. If the 
thoughts be perfectly congruous — be all bearing one way, 
the belief may be said to be of the highest degree; but'if 
there be any disagreement, or isicongruity between one's 
thoughts, relative to a particular subject or question, his be- 
lief relative to this subject or question, will be of a lower de- 
gree. If the evidences for and against any question exactly 
counterbalance each other there is no belief as to this ques- 
tion — the man does not feel any conviction., as the expression 
is, that an affirmative or a negative answer to this question 
would be the true one. 

Now comes the rub. — 

We lay down the following positions as indisputable : — that 
whatever thniks. can think but one thought at a time — that a 
thought is an act of that which thinks — and that putting aside 
sensations, consciousness does not exist when that which thinks 
is inactive, flence it follows, that when a nian thinks he is 
not conscious, and when he is conscious he does not think, or 
else, that, to think, and to be conscious, are one and the same 



259 

thing ; consciousness being, ofcourse, aVord alniosf superflu.- 
©U8, and calculated to puzzle the philosopher and deceive 
those who " take words for things aud suppose that nannes in 
books signify real entities in nature." No one, we think, qan 
hesitate, for a moment, which to say — he will say that to think 
is to be conscious. 

Thus much we have said, that the reader may the bettef 
understand and admit what we are about to sa> concerning 
belief. We do not suppose that the word belief signifies any 
particular act of that which thinks — any act which always 
occurs when a man beheves, let him believe what he may ; 
but we suppose that, to THiNK over congruous thoughts, 
IS TO BfciLiEVE. Hence a man may have as many beliefs as 
he may think over trains of congruous thoughts, relative to 
the innumerable subjects and questiuus with which naankmd 
are concerned. 

A man can have no idea of belief, except of the word itself, 
nor. can he say that vrhen he believes he always experiences 
some particular feeling or consciousness. But this he can 
say, to believe a thing and not to believe it, are not one and 
the same thing; and tliis is prjstty much all he can say about 
it, if he be no metaphysician. If he turn his thoughts inward, 
and attempt to satisfy himself by observation, zohat it is, to be- 
lieve, he gets no satisfaction — he cannot find that any thing 
more or less takes place within, than ideas of objects, sounds, 
flavors, &;c. one after another. It is not an easy matter t& 
determine by direct observation wliat constitutes believing. 

Every man would always believe the shortest statement that 
can be made concerning any thing, if this statement contained 
within itself no contradiction, and if the statement ,did not 
suggest any further thoughts relative to the same thing. If a 
man should step in, and say to me, thert is a cow in your gar- 
den, 1 should certainly believe him if nothing farther should 



•60 

occur to me concerning the matter : — I do believe him the ve- 
ry instant I hear him, and may this ii^stant start to drive her 
out; but the next itistant some thought ma) occur to me, 
which is inconsistent with this statement, and this instant my 
behef is weakened if not destroyed. If 1 think that my gar- 
den is so fenced that no cow can gel into it except through the 
gate, that I was just now in my garden, looked all over it, and 
thtre was no cow in it then, and that when I came out 1 lock- 
ed ihe only gate, put, and still have, the key in my pocket ; I 
may even believe in a high degree, that there is no cow in my 
garden, so turn about and come back. 

The reason why we believe that four and four are eight, 
and that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
angles, is because we think over no incongruous thoughts con- 
cerning these things. It is universally agreed that the name 
©f that sum which is equal to twice four, shall be eight j but 
suppose that a child were told by one, that four and four are 
eleven, by another that four and four are six, and by a third 
that four and four are eight ; would he believe that four and. 
four are eight? Surd) he would, as the expression is, have 
dovbta about it. 

If two men should tell him that four and four are six to one 
that tells him that four and four are eight, he would, other 
things being equal,* beheve in a low degree,! that four and 

* *' Other things bein^ tqi)al " — IVItnl things? The principal 
one is the chi'd's coiifiience in his instructors Hut what is one's 
cofifi/iericf in a thinjj. and how does he come l)y \\ ? One's confi- 
dence in any 'hing. or concerning any 'hnig, is the same a« his be- 
lie! in such thino. or concernnig such thing ; Hnd in the case of the 
ch Id, he is us confident that one ol his teachers tells him the truth 
as that the other does, provided he have never tound that either of 
th^^m tol ♦ him anv thing false, and that he know both are equalh re- 
puted by others for veracity, &«' &c. 

t There are all drg»ees of h^^liel from the highest conviction to 
the meiesi conjecture. We hdve uui yel agreed upou leiois tu axr- 



261 

fonr are pix. Iflbe world were disputing abo!it the mp'aning 
of the word n'g-Z/^rt/Jg^e, some saying it is an angle ofSOde* 
grees, some, that it is an angle of 90 deiirees, and others that it 
is an angle of 45 degrees, &( • &c. ; then one migfit not heheve 
that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right an- 
gles. It is true that this dispute and uncertainty about the 
meaning of one or more words, would not alter the absolute 
nature or relation of ans^les ; but it would cause some to make 
statetneuts concerning them which others would not believe. 
Disputes and disagreements give rise io uncertainty ^ hj 
which term we mean a low degree of belief, or even neutral- 
ity of opinion. — When a man is neuter as to his opinion con- 
cerning a!)v question, it is comtnon to hear him say, " I 
scarcely know what to believe about the matttr." 

Our intuitive belief of, or relative to, mathematical axioms, 
is owing to the umversality of agreement among men as to 
the meaning of the terms of the mathematical sciences, and 
to the unchangeableness of the relations between numbers, 
angles, &c. in tb.emselves considered. If twelve cubic inch 
blorks, placed side by side, extend a certain distance, wiiich 
distance we call a foot, the same number of like blocks, pla- 
ced in like manner, will always extend the same distance ; 
whether we do or do not use the same word to denote this 
distance, and the same v^ord to denote this number of blocks. 
Hence we say the relation between this distance and this 
number of blocks, is unalterable. But the relations between 
many things in nature suffer changes, some of which are un- 
known, and others of which we have no terms to express ; 
and more than this, when speaking of these relations, differ- 
ent men often use dffeient terms to express the same idea© 

press precisely, ^he several riegr*'es of belief. The word opihian^ 
geiuMiilly joiiveys a iioiiou ot a tlegttt' oi btliti auiutwiiul betwt«n 
GODJectuie uud cuuviciiou. 



262 

0r pentJmenfs ; hence arise uncertainty and disputes concero- 
iijg' these things. 

The reason why every body beheves that the same antece- 
dents vYJil, under the same circumstanre&i, always be follow- 
ed bj the same consequents, is because they never knew hke 
antecedents he followed by unlike consequents, under the 
same circumstance^?. Had men frequently, or even once, 
seen a candle continue to burn when dipped iiito water, they 
would afterwards, on being asked if they believe that a can- 
dle will be extiuguished when dipped into water, think that 
they have seen it continue to burn in such case ; consequent- 
ly their belief that it will be extinguished, would not be of 
the highest degree. — Instead of thinkmg over congruous 
thoughts relative to the question, they would think what may 
be expressed thus : Candles have been extinguished by dip- 
ping into water— candles have not been extinguished by dip- 
ping into water. 

Suppose that a man has found by his own experience, as 
well as ly the testimony ofotliers, that a candle just as (re- 
quejitly continues to burn when dipped into water, as to go 
out, he would have no belief, one way or tfie other, about the 
question — Will this candle go out if I dip it into water ? He 
would be opinion neuter as to this question. Still he might 
sffi/, he believes it will go out, or that it will continue to burn.' 
— People often express opinions, and sometimes adhere to 
those of " Mr. Leadtheflock," when they have none. 

Should a mar) have learnt that catidles more frequently go 
out wlicn dipped into water than otherwise, he would have 
some degree of belief that a candle will now go out if dipped 
into the water; asid this degree would be below tirm convic- 
tion, in proportion to the number of times that (as he has 
learnt) a candle does not go out, to tie lUinber that it does, 
when dipped ado water 5 in otiier words, the more frequent- 



263 

ly (as he ba? learnt) that a candle continnes to hqrn 'wlien 
dipped into water, the less would be his beJief that a ch .die 
will go out on being dipped into water. — The events which 
take place within the skull occur according to law ana order, 
as mach as those that occur without ; and every man, learn- 
ed or unlearned, would say so, if he could but think hozv he 
thinks at tSie same time he thinks — lie would hid that in the 
skull the same antecedents are always followed by the saoie 
consequent?, nnder the same circumstances. 

A man's belief dependt> as much on tlje facts which are told, 
or which occur to hmi — depends as much on the thoughts 
which he thinks, as the properties of a chemical compound 
depend on the kinds and proportions of elements that enter 
into it ; and as a neutral salt may be rendered decidedly acid, 
or decidedly alkaline, by the addition of a little more acid, or 
a little more alkali, so a man being opinion neiter, as to any 
question, for instance, "' Is the body of Morgan found V may, 
by a httle newspaper report, be made to believe one thing to- 
day and by an opposite report be made to believe the con- 
trary to-morrovv. And we may here add, a man's belief is 
nothirjg distinct from the thoughts wiiich he thinks, any more 
than the propertsesof a body are something distinct Aom such 
body. As these properties constitute the body, so do the 
thoughts which one thnd<s constitutt his belief — to ihink over 
congruous thoughts is to believe. Yet our language, in spite 
of our teeth, conveys the sentiment tliat the properties of a 60- 
di/ are something djstinct from, or something besides the body 
itself^ and that a man's behef or conclusion concerning any 
thnig, is something besides the thoughts, relative to sac^ 
thing, which he thinks over, in coml\g to such conclusion. 
But we must remember, that a m;«n does not come to a conclu- 
sion^ except in a peculiar sense of the expressiou ; his con- 
clusion goes along wilii him, if we may so say, and ake/a ac- 



254 

eordin^ fo the thoughts which occur to him ; and when he 
has thought over ail fhe thou^^hts rel.itiv^e to a qaestioii, his 
ConcUisiou may be dilFerent troin what it wis before he had 
thought hut a part ; aiid this last, this uitimale, coiichision, is 
what is geoerally called the coik lu^ion. 

But after all that we can say, unices the reader have the 
rack of distiuguishiiig between things and sounds, he will be 
haunted with the sentimeiit that a man's belief, conclusion, 
opinion, ronviction, judgment, &c. &c, is somethmg distinct 
from the thoughts which lead to this belief; {or we must use 
the very languao^e which is so calculated to deceive. 

Every rational or sensorial belief supposes a judging pro- 
cess, however short it 'oay be; but in saying this, we mean 
i)y the expression Jwjig-ui^ process^ a thinking over in close or- 
der a chain of thougiits relative to a subject or question, whe- 
ther these thoughts be incongruous or not, Bnt if we mis- 
take not, men would generally understand by '■^ julg'nis; pro* 
Ccss^ only a process in which one thinks over incongruous 
thoughts; and would say that the m ui "^ weighs or compares 
the facts on both sides of ihe queston, atnl decides according- 
ly," &c. &;c. In our sense of the expression, we hold that 
every intuitive belief, supposes a judging process — supposes 
the thinking over of certain congruons thoughts. 

But althou-h every sensorial oelief supposes ajud^ing pro- 
cess, still every judgijig process does not coastilaie a belief; 
for if the oppo«>ing thongh.s or teslimonies exactly neutralize 
or counterbalance each other, the man is opinion neuter. 
But if a man be opinion neuter as to any qiiestion. and still be 
called upon to give a decision, one way or the other, he can 
do it, haphazard, in word and act ; but he is not the subject 
of that consciousness which congruous thoughls constitute. 

Should anyone be disponed to maintain (hat to think over 
a chaiii of congruous thoughts, is not to believe, will he be so 



265 

good as to show what it is to believe ; and why it is that the 
verb to believe conveys no idea but what may be conveyed 
by the verb to think? In all cases the verb to thiak rnay be so 
used as to convey the same sense as the verb to believe. 

What we have said in the fore part of this chapter concern- 
ing consciousness, may be said concerning belief. If to be- 
lieve and to think certain thoughts in a certain order, be not 
the same, then a man cannot believe the instant he thinks, nor 
think the instant he believes. 

Sensitive Belief, To believe is natural. A man believes 
every thing to be as his senses testify, if he think of nothing 
opposed to such testimony. He believes the testimony of one 
sense, if this testimony be nol coiHradicted by some fact pre- 
viously known to him, or by the testimony of another sense. 

If a man's optic nerves should act as they do when he looks 
at another man, though no other man be present (;i thing that 
often happens in dreaming and delirium) he would believe 
that another man is present ; but should he put forth his hands 
and feel for this man, and feel nothing, there would be a con- 
tradiction between his senses, and hence no sensitive belief; 
for should the man at length believe that no such man is pre- 
sent, his belief would be of the rational species, it would be 
the result (as language compels us to say) of a judging process 
inasmuch as the man would think over several thoughts, su( h, 
perhaps, as may be expressed thus : — " 1 have heard it said 
that a man's optic nerves sometimes act as though he were 
looking at a particular object, though no such object be pre- 
sent; and in such case the man as much believes tlie object 
is present as though it really were; but I never knew that: 
the sense of feeling ever so deceived. And as my head has 
been disordered for several days, my eyes rather weak wsihal, 
1 guess I have not actually seen any man here; but my tyes 

have deceived me." 

34 



266 

Should a man's auditory nerves chance to act as they do 
when one is in the room talking with hun, he would beheve 
some one to be present, hut on looking round and seeing no 
one present, nor any possible chance for one to escape so in- 
stantly, such belief would no longer exist, for there would be 
a contradiction between his senses ; and as the ear more fre- 
quently deceives than the eye, knowing this, he might, and 
probably would, even btlieve that no man is or just lias been 
in his room* 

If the sense of vision and the sense of feeling should both 
testify that an object is present, we believe that all the world 
could not convince the person that no such object is. present. 

It is not to be supposed that when a man has experienced 
an action of one sense, another sense can testify so as to pre- 
vent a belief of the man that he has experienced something. 
If a man's optic nerves should act as when he looks at another 
man, although no other man be present, he believes he sees 
such other man ; but if the sense of feeling testify that no man 
is present, ?/iw belief will be destroyed, but the man will still 
believe that he lias experienced something, either a real of 
false seeing. — A seeing without impression is a false seeing. 

One sense cannot testify that another sense has not acted ; 
it can only testify that it has acted falsely. 

The sense of feeling does, perhaps, less seldom act without 
inipression, less seldom deceive^ than aiiy other ; hen^ e, when 
this sense contradicts such senses as it can contradict, particu-^ 
larly that of vision, the man believes things to be as thisbense 
testifies. 

The reason why a man believes his senses in preference to 
?ill other kinds of testimony, is because they so seldom testify 
falsely in proportion to the number of times they testify cor- 
rectly — in proportion to the number of times that they agree. 
If it were as seldom that a man hears a false report, — if it were 



267 

as impossible for a man to tell a falsehood, as it is for the sense 
of vision to testify that an object is present, when the hand 
can feel no such object, every man would then believe a re- 
port as readily as be believes his own senses. Several ficts 
go to prove this statement. 

If, owing to disease, any sense have deceived a man a (ew 
times, (which deception a sane man discovers by the aid of 
his other senses, and by a judging process,) be does not im- 
plicitly crfidit this sense ; he would sooner believe the testi- 
mony of his friends. If, in a man who has been a few times 
deceived by his eyes, a candle should excite the same actions 
that two candles do in a healthy man, he would say : — '' It 
seems to me that there are two candles, but I am not certain, 
my eyes sometimes deceive mc." 

When men see objects, a mountain, for instance, which ap- 
pear but five miles off, they do not have a high degree of be- 
lief that they are but five miles off, because they know that 
by measurement, objects have often been found to be farther 
off than the eye testifies them to be. A medicine or an arti« 
cle of food may taste bitter to a sick man ; but if his attend- 
ants tell him that it is not, in its nature, bitter, he believes 
that it is not, even if it be something that he never tasted of 
while in healih. For he believes, or by argument can be 
made to believe, that an article of food or medicine may taste 
bitter to a sick man, though it does not to others. These 
facts, and some others that might be adduced, tend to show 
that the reason why a man so readily believes his senses^ as the 
expression is, is because they so seldom testify falsely, so sel- 
dom contradict each other, in proportion to the number of 
times that they agree. 

As a sense may testify falsely, it may be asked how we can 
know that all our senses do not, at all times, testify falsely ; 
how we can know that any of the external objects really €x^ 



268 

lit, that appear to exist ? We answer, that of the exlsfenre of 
external things we can have no higher testimony than that of 
the senses ; but when the senses do not disagree, their testi- 
mony is such that no man can disbelieve them if he would^ 
any more than water can run up hill. — No one can alter the 
immutable laws of belief. 

Lest the reader should fail of getting our precise notions 
Concerning sensitive belief, being deceived by the expression, 
a, man believes the testimony of his senses^ and other like ex- 
pressions which we are obliged to use, — we will here observe, 
that we suppose, that to perceive an object^ means as much as 
to believe such object exists, or. lo have a belief that such object 
exists, — By using different words to express something that 
goes on in the head, we do not alter this somothing which 
goes on in the head. This remark we consider important, 
and wish it might be remembered ; for it is language which 
got into use in days of ignorance, that, more than any thing 
else, causes men to think that something very mysterious 
goes on within the skull. The time will come, however, 
when it will be generally admitted, that nothing more or less 
occurs, than conscient actions which are, or have been exci- 
ted by impressions upon the senses, ^ — speaking with reference 
to the conscient or intellectual phenomena only. 

From what haS been advanced in this work, thus far, we 
see that a man is no more culpnhle or meritorious for believ- 
ing whatever he does believe, than Water is for running down 
hill. Every thing takes place according to (he immutable 
Jaws of nature, and whatever thinks, is as much under the 
control of these laws, as water or any thing else. And we 
may here observe, that nothing is more absurd and abusive, 
nolhing more clearly indicates a want of penetration, or a 
narrow, seltish, sectarian spirit, and disregard for truth, than 
to coudemn any one for his belief. It is abourd, because a 



269 

man's belief cannot "be altered except by facts and arguments ; 
degrading epithets, unfriendly treatment, or appaling threats, 
cannot change a man's behef — the laws of behef will not ad- 
mit of it. It is abusive, because it is punii^hing a man for 
what* he does not do with evil intentions, when such punish- 
ment can have no good effect. It indicates a want of pene- 
tration, for any one who knows that no events take place 
without causes, (and who doii't know this ?) must be short- 
sighted indeed, not to see that one event as necessarily takes 
place as another, whether it occur within or without the hu- 
man skull ; and that one man is no more to blame for his be- 
lief, whatever it may be, than another. It indicates a narrow, 
selfish, sectarian spirit, ai'.d disregard for truth, because we 
never see it in well informed men, who do not so much care 
what truth is. as to knoio v/hat it is. 

But although we say it is absurd and abusive to condemn a 
man for his opinions, v/e do not say it is so to applaud or 
condemn a man for his good or bad deeds. The reason is 
obvious : By applauding or condemning men for their deeds, 
you may greatly influence their coiduct ; — this applauding 
and condemning ore links in the chain of causes which regu- 
late human actions ; but facts and arguments are the only ef- 
fectual weapons with which you can attack a man's opinions ; 
and no other ever ought to be used for the purpose. — Let ev- 
ery man stand or fall by his good or bad coaduct towards his 
fellow beings. 



i^7t 

CHAPTER XIX. 

On Knowledge. 

As we frequently bear a man's knowledge spoken of ag^ 
though i^ were something distinct from what stands up in his 
library — something which he carries about in his head ; and 
as no one that we know of, has ever clearly defined the 
word, we have concluded to give the word a place in our met- 
aphysical vocabalary, and devote a short chapter to the con- 
sideration of it. 

All the sensorial tendencies possessed by one man constl* 
tate the man's knowledge. The word does not signify all the 
tendencies that ever have existed in what is called the same 
man; for in time some of the sensorial tendencies undoubt- 
edly become entirely extinct, and the man can no more think 
those thoughts which these tendencies once enabled him to 
think, than if these tendencies had never been produced ; he 
is therefore as ignorant, perhaps, concerning the things to 
which these lost tendencies related, as if he had never learnt 
any thing about them. We say perhaps, because a man may 
lose part of his knowledge concerning a particular subject 
or event, but not the whole of it, and of course not be as ig- 
norant concerning such subject or event, as though he had 
never learnt any thing concerning it. On the other hand, a 
man's knowledge comprehends all his sensorial tendencies 
that do exist, even if some of these tendencies do not become 
operative, do not give rise to action or thought, on a desired 
occasion. Thus a man may wish to think, or think of, anoth- 
er man's name, but cannot at the time, and still he may be 
satd to know the man's name, since there still exists a ten- 
dency of his sensorium to think it, as will be proved, shouU 



27i 

he think it on another occasion, without having seen it er 
heard it spoken, from the time he wished to ihink it, to the 
time he does think it. 

Ever)' diifeient impression may excite a different action m 
one's nerves and brain, prodacing, of course, a new sensorial 
tendency, more or less stron^^. Hence there are, as it were^ 
no limits to the knowledge which a man may acquire, for the 
number of different impressions that may be made upon his 
senses is infinite. Nor is tliis all. — 

We may divide the sensorial tendencies into two classes ; 
one class comprehending the tendencies to act individual ac* 
tions, or, if you please, to thmk individual thoughts ; the other 
class comprehending tendencies to think these thoughts in 
certain orders — to thmk them over, one after another, ac- 
cording to certain relations which may subsist between them. 
The first class of tendencies are all produced by impressions 
upon the senses ; the others, more or less of them, may arise 
from mere cogitation. Hence there is a certain kind of 
knowledge which the sensoriam may be said to acquire by its 
own exercise, without the immediate agency of nerves. The 
first tendencies may be caWed primitive tendencies, or tenden- 
eiesfrom impressions ; the second, secondary^ or relative ten- 
dencies^ or tendencies from cogitation. The reader already 
knows that the first sort of tendencies give rise to thiose ac- 
tions which constitute what we call ideas. Many ofthe secon- 
dary tendencies are tendencies to think over in connexioOj 
certain congruous ideas, constituting what may, properly 
enough, be called a sentiment. 

For illustration — 1 think, 1 believe, or, it is an opinion or 
sentiment of mine, that calomel and opium zoill cure infiamma- 
iion. Now it must be that several ideas occurring together 
constitute this sentiment ; — it cannot be any one idea, in the 
sense in which we use the word idea ; but why do they occur 



272 

together ? Is it not because that whatever thinks, is disposed 
to think them thus ? — I now purpose to inquire what -deas oc- 
curring together, constitute this sentiment ; and wh) they 
constitute what is as properly called a belief -ds^i sentmient. 

By an observation made in two or three separate places in 
this work, the reader might learn, if his own efforts did not 
convince him, that it is not a very easy matter for me to de- 
termine what are my own ideas that generally occur, when I 
think what 1 express by these words: — Calomel and opium 
will cure irtjlammation / and much less can ! tiske it upon me 
to say what ideas occurnng in otiiers, constitute this senti- 
ment. But before I speak for m}seif, 1 will venture to say 
this much for others, at different times dslferent ideas may oc- 
cur and constitute what they call a tliinking, or opinion, that 
calomel and opium zoill cure injlammation. Now for myself. 
For several days, whenever I chanced to think of it, I have been 
trying to catch myself in the very act of thinking calomel and 
opium will cure inflammation, aiid so fn* as 1 can determine I 
find that sometimes I have ideas of a white powder, a mass of 
opium, and the luritten word inflammation ; sometimes optical 
notions of all the important words in the sentence — the great 
round O to the left of the little p, appears very conspicuous 
to my " minds eye." At otlier times 1 have ideas ol calomel 
and opium, and of a red spot somewhere upon a man, fading 
away ; that is, growing less red, and the extent of it diminish- 
ing — the edges gathering in like the edges of that moist sur- 
face which one makes when he breathes upo i a polished ra- 
zor, thinking to determine ?n this way whether the razor be 
properly tempered. This idea of a red surface fading away, 
1 think answers very well to the clause cure inflammation^ 
Sometimes ! have ideas of one of these saddle-bags men in a 
house at the bed side of a patierit. wih some small white pills 
lying upon a table or candie aLai.d. Such are some of the 



273 

ideas which T find I have when I endeavor to determine what 
ideas constitute the sentiment, that calomel and opium mil 
eure inflammation.^ But the same fact may be expressed in 
other words, as follows : — A man has a red, swollen, painfu- 
face, foul tongue, quick pulse — in short, an inflammation of the 
face ; the phj^sician gives him calomel and opium ; these symp- 
toms disappear — such instances frequently happen — if no 
medicine be given it has been found that such inflammations 
generally termii/ate fatally. Ail this is much as to say, calo- 
mel and opium cure iriflammations, and to think over these 
facts, is to think that calomel and opium cure inflammations. 
But why does this thinking constitute a belief that calomel and 
opium cure inflammations? It is because the thoughts are 
congruous — ihey are not connected with other thoughts that 
would be expressed by contrarj' terms — the man does not 
think of any fact opposed to the factor proposition, that calo- 
mel and opium cure inflammation. It is true, he may think of 
patients that died with inflammation, who took calomel and 
opium ; but this is not opposed to the proposition that, calo- 
mel and opium cure inflammation — it is only opposed to the 
position that calomel and opium always cure inflammation, a 
position which no man believes. 

There may be some disagreement among men about the 
use of the word sentiment ; — some may use it in such a broad 
sense as to include all the grand ultimate conclusions to 
which a man may arrive ; but it would be convenient if there 
were some term universally agreed on, to denote those minor 



* Since (he above was put in type, I Hmvp become satisfied 
thnt xUose audial actions excued in my seHsorinm, (not in my audi- 
tory nerves and sensorium,) when I hear it said that calomel and 
opiutn ni'l cure itflainmalion, are anjong the sensorial actions 
that con-titiite thn sentiment expressed by — calumel and ojnum 
will curt inftammalion. 

35 



274 

eonclusions or principles, which occur to an old, learned 
thinker when he is said to generalize. 

Knowledge, then, is of two kinds, primitive and secondary. 
The first is acquired by the direct exercise of the senses ; 
the secondary arises from that exercise of the sensorium to 
which primitive knowledge gives rise. 

The more we investiisjate the intellectual phenomena, the 
more firmly are we convinced that the mystery which is so 
generally supposed to hang about them, is chiefly owing to the 
language to which false notions long ago gave rise, and which, 
more or less of it, we are still under the necessity of using. — 
We speak of a man's belief, faith, judgments, sentiments, con= 
elusions, doctrines and principles, which words are in them- 
selves as different from each other, as the words stone and 
steam ; and one can scarcely believe that, so far as it re- 
spects any thing which exists or goes on in the head, all these 
words mean one and the same thing. When we speak shout 
comparing ideas, and distinguishing^ differences between them, 
one is naturally led to suppose that we mean something more 
than merely having these ideas occur in immediate succession. 
When we say a man substitutes an idea of one thing for an 
idea of another, one would not suppose that this substituting 
consists in nothing other than in. having an idea of one thing, 
in connexion with an idea of the name of another thing. 
And when we say a man believes the testimony of his senses, 
who at first thought, would suppose that, to have perceptions, 
means as much ? But Itt the reader lay aside all language 
and, disregarding the speculations of others, consider what 
goes on in his own head. He will find, that, putting aside 
perceptions and sensations, nothing more at any time occurs 
than ideas of objects (among which are written words) sounds 
flavors, odors, and feelings, one after another. 

What of mystery concerning the intellectual phenomena^ 



275 

15 not owing to our present bad language, is owing to our be- 
ing unable to observe what goes on in us, when we remember, 
judge, &c. at the very ijistant we remember or judge : all 
things without continue to exist the same, when we examine 
them, as when we do not examine them, but the moment a 
man undertakes to examine a judging process, that very mo« 
ment does the judging process cease, or go on differently 
from what it does when a man is not paying attention to it. 
It is not mysterious that sensibility should arise from the or- 
ganic union of insensible atoms, or that a sensation or per- 
ception should be excited in the nervous system when it 
possesses sensibility. If it be, then every thing in nature 
is mysterious ; it is mysterious that acidity should arise from 
the chemical union of non-acid atoms, and that a liquid pos- 
sessing the property of acidity should change a vegetable 
blue color to red ; and mysterious that one body sbouiii 
move an other by impulse. 



-GO- 



CHAPTER XX. 

On Personal Identity. 

The word, identity means sameness ; and the term, person- 
al identity, means same person. But almost every body in 
nature is continually sutfering some kind of change : a piece 
of gold wrapped in dry paper and laid away in a tight box is 
continually undergoing a change of relation with the heavenly 
bodies, and with every thing that moves upon the face of the 
globe. When even an individual particle of matter is added 
too or taken from any body, such body suffers a change, — it 
suffers a change even when a few of its own particles change 



276 

their relations with ef^ch other. It follows, then, that there 
are but few if any bodies in existence to day, which are, in 
the niost strict and absolute sense of the term, the snme bod- 
ies that existed yesterday. But notwithstanding this, nnen 
say of bodies that exist to day, they are the same bodies which 
existed five, ten, tifty or an hundred years ago, unless these 
bodies have undergone very great, perhaps we may shy,> total 
changes. Therefore when we inquire whether a body which 
exists to day, be the same body which existed yesterday, we 
do not so much regard the changes which it may have under- 
gone since yesterday, as the changes which it has not under- 
gone ; and yet men have not agreed what changes any body 
must not undergo, that it may still be called the same body. 
But it will generally be admitted that John Brown who is the 
Jlrst son of a certain Caleb Brown, is the sa7ne man that was 
called John Brown and that bore this peculiar relation to said 
Caleb Brown ten years ago, let him have undergone what 
changes he may since that time. If this be admitted, it fol- 
lows, that all that is necesssary, m order that a man who exists 
to day may be to the world around the same man that existed 
ten years ago, is, that he be known to the world around, as the 
man who bore a certain peculiar relation to something else, 
ten years ago, — a relation which no other being but this 
could or ever can bear to this same something else. 

But the grand question, relative to persona! identity, about 
which philosophers have been so much puzzled, is not what 
constitutes the same man to the world around : there is no 
more difficulty about this than there is about what constitutes 
the same tree, house, or jacknife. The grand question is, 
what constitutes the same man as it respects himself — what 
constitutes the same thinking man ? By which we mean 
much the same that Professor Brown does by " mental iden- 
iitij,'^'* We answer at once : — the same sensorial tendencies. 



277 

The proof is clear. Take from my brain or sensorium its 
present tendencies, and I should think not at all ; but give it 
the tendencies of Jolin Bmwn's brain, and I should then 
think, believe, remember, jud^e, imagine, &c. precisely as 
John Brown now does or may think, believe, <fec. 1 should 
believe that my name is John Broivn^ my father'' s name is Ca- 
leb Brown^ I am his first son^ I was born at Troy, where my 
father now lives, — thai farm which I own in J\''assau ought to 
brins, me 5000 dollars — / once stole a turkey of a man in GilL 
In short, 1 should (hink of every thing, and believe every 
thing, just as John Brown now thinks and believes, or may 
believe ; and nothing is more clear than that I should be John 
Brown, so far as it respects the thinking man, to all intents 
and purposes. 

Suppose, now, that John Brown knows me, my family, my 
bouse, &:c. and suppose that I receive, not his tendencies, but 
tendencies precisely like his, while abed and asleep at home : 
when I awake, 1 begin to think precisely as the other John 
Brown would had he been brought in his sleep and put in my 
place. [ should, on looking around., thirik that I had slept 
very soundly, and that while sleeping, some trickish fellow- 
had taken me out of my [John Brown's] house, and put me 
to bed in C. K's house along with his wife. I should laugh 
at the trick, hut retaining my [C. K's.] present looks, this 
wife would wonder v/hat I was laughing at. [should enter 
into such conversation with her, that she would be satisfied 
that I was either crazy, or else had a peculiar faculty of talk- 
ing as though I were somebody besides C. K. But 1, on the 
other hand, should be surprised that she should take me to 
be C. K. and not John Brown. She might, perhaps, say to 
me : look in the glass, and you will see that you are the same 
C. K. that you was yesterday. Should I then look in the 
glassj I should be exceedingly astonished ; for 1 should find 



27% 

th^t *riy ^ook? h'^ undergone such a change that 1 now look 
precisely Iske C. K, , (for by supposition, John Brown knows 
how I [C. K.] look; but notwithstanding this, the world 
could no more convince me that J am not John Brown, than 
ir can • ow coiivince me that I am not Charles Knowlton. I 
should know that I am John Brown, every thing else to the 
contrary notwithstanding. 1 should soon bt; making towards 
my home, from whence 1 was brought, (by some supernatural 
power, probably, smce nothing short of such could have so 
changed my looks,) and if, on arriving there, the other John 
Biown should be at home, a warm contention would soon 
aiise about rights and propert} ; T should own to him that he 
looks just as I did before my looks were changed, but tell him 
that I did not expect he would think to claim my wife, my 
children, and my property, on this account. Some might 
consider me crazy in respect to this one thing, — taking my 
splf to be John Brow/?, --although I might appear as rational 
in every other respect, as any other man ; but many, (ifthey 
were immaterialists,) and especially the other John Brown, 
would take me to be Charles Knowlton, inhabited by another 
sup^'ViKtlural si'iRsT ; 'or this John Brown would find that I 
could tell him of every place he ever had been in, of every 
deed he had ever done, and of every thought and intention of 
his '* heart," just as ueil as he could tell them himself. — I 
even doubt if he would not give up his whole estate to me, if 
1 i )sisted on hi« doing so, as i probably should, knowing that it 
all belonged to me. 

But if ^lother John Brown, instead of retaining his old sen- 
sorial tendencies, should loose them all, and receive C. K's 
on the same|night that C K. receives his, then the new John 
Biovvn on go:t)g to his honrx , would probably meet the 
new C. K. goin,4to his home", — both equally astonished at 
having beea carried off ia the nighi, and ul having their looks 



27S 

so changed. The world would take both fo he insane, hut 
both would be as confident that they are not, as any man is 
that he is not insane ; and there would be no contentions 
between them, about property and privileges. 

Let us suppose that I, Ch<irles Knowlton, not only swop 
sensorial tendencies with John Brown, but that my body be 
so remodelled as to look precisely like John Browii, and John 
Brown so remodelled as to look like me. I should then be 
converted into John Brown, and the present John Brown 
would beconse Charles Knowlton, not only as it respects the 
thinking man, but as it respects the zoorld around, or the world's 
man. Hence we see that the particles of matter which com- 
pose a man, have nothing to do with his identity, in any im* 
portant sense of the term ; and at the driy of resurrection, or 
rather of reorganization, it will mitter not wh^t particles of 
matter we shall be composed of, any more than it now con- 
cerns us whether our bodies are comooseJ of the matter of 
the bread, meat, butter and cheese of Vermont, or of the fi^h, 
rice, and fruits of a southern climate. All that will be neces- 
sary to constitute the same man, to all intents and purposes, 
wril be to have the same looking body organized out o{ any 
matter, possessing the same sensorial tendencies. 

As a man may undergo great changes in his looks, and still 
be the same man to the world around, so m^y he undergo 
greU changes in his sensorial tendencies, and still be the 
same man. to himself ;— he may forget much, [outgrow many 
tendencies] and he may learn much, [acquire many new ten- 
dencies,] and still know, believe, or be conscious that he is 
the ^ame man. 

We would not undertake to determine what tendencies 
must be retained in order to give ri^e to those thoughts which 
constitute one's belief that he is the sanse man; we think, 
however, Ihat they are very few ; perhaps no more than 



280 

enough to give ri?e to a remembering of his name, of his pa- 
ren»s, and of some one thing that he has done. 

It may be asked, if it be not naturally possible for two per- 
sons to acquire precisely the same tendencies, and of course 
be precisely alike as it respects themselves. We answer, no. 
If two children be organized precisely alike, and born at the 
same time and place, and called by the same name, it would 
be impossible for rhem to acquire the same sensorial tenden- 
cies ; for they could not both he in the same place, and in the 
same relation to each other and thitigs around at all times; 
hence, precisely the same impressions could not be made 
upon the r senses at the same time, and merely on this ac- 
count, they mav in time become quite different men as it re- 
spects the suogeslin^ principle, which term 1 ihink 1 may now 
use, without hj^ms;; mi'^understood. 

After nil tliat we have said about sensorial tendencies, it 
may be said that their existence is purely hypothetical. We 
grant it. — so is thedi irnal revolution of the earth hypotheti- 
cal. We are not immediately conscious of any motion of 
ihQ earth ; but (he siipposition that it does move enables us 
to explain ma?iy astroimmical pheiiomena ; and the supposi- 
tion of the sensorial tendencies enables us to explain many 
physioloi^ical or coii-cieut phenomena ; and there is nothing 
opposed to either supposition. There is a great d fference be- 
tween a supposition which enables us to explain many phe- 
nomena, and one which affords no such aid. hut on the con- 
trary rend-rs such })heno'nena ten times more complicated, 
trysterious, aud incomprehensible. If such supposition be 
not directly contradicted by any one fact, still it is contradict- 
ed, — it is contradicted by the simplicity of nature, arid the 
soundest principles of philosophy. 

We cannot close this chapter without adverting to the 



281 

speculation- of professor Brown concerning personal identi- 
iy ; or as lie choo-es to term it, mental identiiy. He admits 
thai tjje exprc5sio[), sarac man, is geiierally considered to 
mean something more than same mind ; he says, however, 
but iittle oouceroiiig corporeal identity, or the identity of a 
man to the world around ; but he writes aboijt fifty, full, oc- 
tavo pages to establish his notions concerning mental iuenti* 
t\ : a fact which, of it-cif, argues mnch agiinst his opinions. 
His most imp jrtant posiiious concerning mental identity, are 
the two following: — 

Fir>t. Mentai identify consists \n the *'unity and sameness 
of that whirh thuiks and eels," independent of all theeiidless 
variety of its transitu states or f^hanges — indej)endent of all 
thoughts and sensations.''^ Second. A man's heh(f\h^i he 
is the same man, "arises from a Iciw of thoiighi^^'^ which law- 
is '• a pri?iciple ofintnitive belief; — as it were, an internal 
never-ceasing voice from the Creator and preserver of our 
beino; — an internal revelation froin on high, — too imporiant 
to be left to the casual discovery of reason." ! ! | 

We see that according to professor Brown, personal, or 
mental identity, consists in that which tnakes no ditference 
between men — in that which ()f it exist) is the same in all 
m.en, for aught any one can say to the contrary. He [)laces 
it in an indivisible, unextended (no-) thing; for such is wiiathe 
means by "' th'diuhich thinks and J eels f'' — he places it in such 
thmg. independent of all the st<ttes it may chance to be in, in- 
de|)ei)deiit of all thoughts, fceiing'^, and hviief^-. H' nce it fol- 
lows that if John Browi^, mentioned a few pages back, should 
be this night aimdnlated, and I siiould be carried lo, and put in 
hi< hod with !n\ body ^d remodeiied as to io(>k precisely like 

'" ■ ill- ••PiniDHopii) ui tilt iiuuiaii lUiiidj" vol. 1, p. Ib^, P.iii- 
ad< ij.ii.t b^dii ir/^4 

1 oce pages idv^jUud iQ3. lb. 

36 



282 

said John Brown, and wy itndencies to think, my store of latent 
ideas ^'''^ (i^any body can tell what a latent idea is, and how 
they can be stored away in an unextended mind,) or my 
knowledge (if the immaterialists can tell us what knowledge 
is) so changed that I ?honld think, believe &c. precisely as 
the present John Brown does or would, — of course, as firmly 
believe myself (o be John Brown as he now does, still I 
should be the same thissking, the same 7?2e//Jfl/ Charles Knowl- 
ton that I now am ! This is what I say would be the case, ac- 
cording to professor Brown's doctrine ; for the same mind 
(the thing in which he places my identity) which he supposes 
to have been in me, when an infant, and when asleep, would 
still be in me, and constitute the very me, myself. 

Concerning Professor Browii's second position, that " The 
fee/i'e/'of identiiy of self, as the one permanent subject of the 
transient feehngs remembered by us, arises from a law of 
ihovghl,'''^ it appears unnecessary to say much. 

1 presume it will be admitted that a law of thought is a law 
of nature, and a uisiversal law ; but I may observe that there 
is no law of thought in me, which gives rise to '* the belief of 
the identity of §eif, as one permanent subject of the transient 
feelings remembered by me." To be sure, 1 believe that I 
am the same man that did a certain act, felt a certain pain, 
or came to a certain conclusion, at some former period : but 
I believe it, in the common sense of the word same — in that 
sense in which 1 use it, when I say, — Llie horse in my stable 
is the same that I bought four years ago. I do not believe 
that 1 am one permanent subject of the thoughts and actions, 
said to be the thoughts and actions of Charles Knowlton. — 
By the pronouns /, me, arid myselj. I always mean that visi- 
ble, extended being called Charles Knowlton. 1 never have, 
in using these woid-, the least reference to an unextended 
thmg in my brain, which ihiiig nomaacaii ever have any idea 



283 

of. Ifour present bad language sometime' le^ivps m? under 
the necessiiy of using the pronouns /, myself^ &c. as though 
thev meant sometiiing distinct froin ihe Charles Kiowlion bo-- 
dy^ still I do not mean so. Neither do I have reference to my 
sensorium, any more than atiy other part of my body, unless I 
specify this part, or speak in particular reference to it. — 
Wiien in comtnon conversation, 1 say I w liked to Troy, i do 
not mean, more especially, that my legs walked to Troy; 
and when I say I think, 1 do not mean, more especially, my 
sensoriuin thinks, unless I atn upon some metaphysical sub- 
ject. But although, by the pronouns I, me, and myself, I 
mean an extended being, still, if a part of this being should 
be removed, the part which retained the sensorium would 
still call itself, /. mijself, 6iC, What more convenient language 
could it use ? Now I believe that the being called Charles 
Knowlton, that is, I, myself, is, like every thing else in nature, 
continually undergoing changes, and is not a permanent sub- 
ject. But until we have a dsfforent language, and until I have 
different sensorial tendencies. I shall continue to call myself, 
and believe myself to be, the same Charles Knowlton that 
did certain things ten years ago. -^-Certain tendencies of my 
sensorium give rise to such thoughts as constitute such belief; 
but why, in any case, con^^ruous thoughts occurring together 
constitute a belief, 1 can as well tell, and no better, as I caa 
why oxygen and hydrogen chemically united in certain pro- 
portions, constitute water. You may say (hat such is a law 
of thought, or a law of nature, or, what is the same thing, that 
it IS one of those ultimate aiid universal facts, of which there 
is no explanation to be given, and of which none but the igno- 
rant will ask for an explanation. 

Now when Brown says that a man's belief of his identity 
arises from a law of thought, and says no more than this, 
we do not objeci to the expression ; but it is the same law of 



284 

thonght, on account of which, we believe i\\?t four and four 
are equal to eight; that a candle will cease to burn when 
you dip it into water ; the same law^ of thought, from which 
arises a lower degree of belief (hai there will be some snow 
next w'lnter, and from which arises a still lower dej;ree of he- 
lief, that we shall have some rain within three weeks. There 
is not a particular law of belief for every pariicnlnr hehcf 
which we have — there is but one law of i)ehef : (hose beliefs 
called intuitive arc such as ihcj are, because they coi:S4st of 
thoughts that are /?e;yec//i/ congruous ; there is riOt a single 
contradictory thouglU united with them ; they relate to things 
concerning wiiich there is liOt the least coiitradiclion of any 
•kind. 

We may further remark, concerning Professor Brow?;'s 
speculations, thai, according to liis test of identity, ice and 
caloric are precisely the same thing as the steam made out of 
this ice and caloric ; ar^d certain bodies of oxygen, hydro- 
gen, and sulpfnir, are the same thing as the oil of vitriol tliat 
may afterwards be made out of Ihem, tiiey being the same 
substance existing in a diirerent state. So. too, a ball of wax, 
and the image of a man made out of this wax. are the same 
thing. Rather a strange perversion of language this, to say 
no more. 

From what has been said in this and the preceding chap- 
ter, it appears that what constitutes a man's knowledge, is 
Ihe same as that which constitutes his identity, as n' res'pec/^ 
himself. — tiiat to be the same thinking man, is to be a man of 
the same kr;owledge. But the whole of that which consti- 
tutes imcard identity is not concerned in giving rise to one's 
belief that lie is the saine man to-day tliat did a certain deed 
yesterday. Hence a man's knowledge may increase or de- 
crease (if he do not lose a certain part of it,) and his belief of 



285 

his identity remain the same, it being neither increased ordi- 
mr!!-hed. 

No one will think to olvert to our doclrine of identify, by 
saying we place it in sometturi^ii; ntjich does not pf nrmMesi'ly 
reniiii} the same absohitely. To say Ihis, would bt; io S|)e Ic 
in commendaliori of it, since we ivnow that the ini:er, or think- 
ing (jvan, iiiidergoes even greater changes, from iuiaiicy to 
manhood, thari the outer, or world^s nmn. 

Should we be aslced why we say of a thir^g to dr^y. it ?> the 
SAME thai it zcas yesterday., when it has suffered son^c cw^u.^ 
Since yesteriiay, we should answer, — it is for C(.n\ eniencc 
sake. If aieii would not af„Tee to use (he word same except 
in its n^o?i ab^oluto sense, they would not only b.ave V(uy ht- 
tie use for it, but the world could not ho d a dictionur) big 
e?'.ough to contain a nnme for every diffcr-ent body wdnrh has 
hceii,'s, and will !)e in existence, if \^f ?}jouid s^:y, tlse ir.staiit 
any body sutfers the least degree of change, it is no ioi ^er 
thesame^ but a {!if\re/<i I od}\ — Ifaii} rran will show us any 
th ;5g wlsich ?uii'jrs no ciiHiige, will show us absoiue idd!!.;}, 
a:id make such a dictio lary, to bo n, we will aj^iee noi io say 
of any thing to-day, it i-^ the sa ize it was ycbtcrJay, provided 
it iiave undergone the least change. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

On Volition. 

That the reader may come to iliia subject, prepared to 
judge correctly cf the opinions we are about to aUvatice, st is 
necessary that he have a sincere Iqve of tlae simple truth of 
nature 5 and that he have no iutcrcst in tije mjsienous and 



286 

complicated dogma?! oftheKcbools. That he free himself as 
muohas possible from tlie indueiice ofotir very ohjeciionable 
la>i^ii.k i,e, fO as nol to be deceived !>j such as the writer may 
be under the necessity of using. He must have correct no- 
tions of caise and eflect,— he must remember that a cause 
is nothing more ihnn an event which is immediatclij and inva- 
Tfnhly followed by a certain o;her event, under the same cir- 
cnms^las ce?, — and indeed we often u.^e the word when it can- 
not be sai(i lo mean so murh as this, unless we give the word 
event,, a broader meaning than '^an agent acting ;'' — but he 
must not sii[)pose that iha succeeding event never does and 
never can occur, except it be immediately preceded by one 
ad the same event : — The body A may strike the body B, 
aiid this body may move a certain distance in a certain di- 
rection. This is an event cau^ed (immediately preceded) 
hy the stroke of ihe body, A ; but the body X may be brought 
pretty near ihe body B, and by attraction cause it to move 
the same distance and in the same direction that it did when 
impulsed by tlie body A, Here then, are two like events, or 
the same event occurring twice, from different causes. It is 
necessary, also, that the reader be aware, that it is just as 
natural for matter to act be it in what state it may, as it is 
for it not to act ; — that, being at rest, it never moves or acts 
without cajse, aisd being in actiori, it never rests or ceases 
to act without cau«e. An internal action going on in any 
organ, no more ceases to go on without some cause for its ceas- 
ing, than acaiinon ball ceases to move without a cause, after 
beir^g forced from the mouth of a cannon : — some change, 
some wear and tear, must take place in the organ, from its 
own action ; or some alteration in the kind and quantity of 
fl'iids flowiiig to and from the organ, mu^t take place ; op 
some other action must take place in tho same precise organ, 
or bome organ connecied wiih it, whtch must, according to 



287 

iJu laws ofnalure, be followed by a cessation of the action 
which ceases. 

In treating of the relation between the nervous and muscu- 
lar systems, ^^e come to the conclusioi] that the immediate 
antecedent or cause of voluntary contractions, is an action 
commencing in the brain and extending along the nerves into 
the voluntary muscles. This action of (he nervous system is 
an unconscioys action, and we call it ihe motive action of the 
nervous system. 

We are of opitiioi that this action does not commence in 
the sensorium, or that pari of the hrain in winch co.iscic.nt 
actions occur; but iti a coiitiguous part — perhaps in the ce- 
rebral extremilies of tiervous iibrils, of a different organization 
than those which take on conscient actions ; and is excited, 
caused, or more properl}, is immediately [)r( ceded bv certain 
conscient actions of the sensorium, just as an) other etfect is 
immediately preceded by its cause. 

Tiie relation between the conscient actiot}S of the sensori- 
um, and the motive actions of the hraii., may be illustrated 
by the relation wliich subsists between a master and his ser- 
vant. The master and the servant may act independent of 
each other ; yet when the master corfimands, do this — do that 
— goon — stop-, the servant obeys ; but the master is not con- 
trolled by the servant. So the conscient ai d motive actions 
may even commence, and continue, independent of each oth- 
er ; yet the motive actions (unless they are unruly, as in epi- 
lepsy, tetanus, &c.) commence, vary, and stop at the com- 
mand of the conscient actions ; that is, <hey commence, vary, 
and stop, according to those conscient actions of the senso- 
rium which occur. But the motive actions do not govern 
the conscient actions, that is, it is not a fact, a universal fact, 
or law, that when euch and such motive actions occur, such 



288 

and <uch conscient actions or thoughts follow as n necessary 
co<'!>equence. 

Again, a? the .servant mny he set io work hy the niaster, and 
afterwards coPitinue to work independent of the master, in the 
same way as direcred. until again dictated hy the master, or 
ij'jiii exhausted — at which time lie can work no more it'com- 
manded ever so urgentSy ; — so the motive actions, having 
been excited hy the conscient actions, may continue to oo oa 
as'at nv^t, iadepcndent o^ \he conscient actions, ujitil varied or 
stopped by the conscient actions, or until some change, sonjc 
^vear and tear, takes place in the brain, inconsistent with 
their fnrllier continuanre. at which time a man may desire to 
move ever so much, hut he cannot. 

For further illustration : — Ceriain conscient actions or 
thouy;ht5 occur in me, which cons-titute a desire to walk to 
the bridge,'^' — ^certain motive actions of the brain immedi- 
alely set in, (as it is a law of volition that they should.) and 
certain muscu'ar coiitractions immediattly follow, and I 
walk alon-;;, step afler step, as I set out, witiiout any further 
thinking about it. — 1 go trudging along in the smiie pace, cog- 
it;uing about some s;jb;ect, as foreign to my walking as any 
til';!).', can he; but the usouient I quicken nriy suq), turi) my 
crjurse, or s!op, you ma) ks-ow that a thought has occurred 
relative to my walking — >ou nsay know thai liie masier has 
giveii a liew conunand to the servant, 

A'thr>u9:!) the conscieiit and motive actions of ihf brain are 



^ We s!:-i!i inv;!!i;)biv ("ih tUn^-- coosciPiU aci^'iis vvhiili uk!)!'^- 
diatfiv piec('Hp \\)r iinilivp juii-.aiv, (whici! umUivp ..vj \'S )itni!'(ii- 
and> precfd • V')lui!t.uv cnirrHtious or tni'ii' as ) a df it ; bat 
like hdiet*, th.s df siiv m.^y be ot' a hi*:!) or low deurt'''. h ir.^^y. m 
niauv mstaarcs he of siicb l<uv dtgree as ij^t fo ("on^iinin^ siif h 
Citusri'Mi^iK'ss as wi>u!d a^neral'y be cdlk'd de^'irf — Wt- n-as be 
peiinillcd U) have a Imi'ita^e to express t)Mr -eiiiimeii! '. if i la- at 
the expunge ot' coining a lew new v>ordi>. and uUeiing a Itw old 
ones.' ' ■ 



es^enfialfi/ (VffereDf. "iiiW there is a ?trk'n^' ana'^oj^y !>etwe6fe 
the uitiinate facts ihat relate to them. The conscient action© 
must, in the lirst place, be excited by impression? npon the 
seii?e«, after i\us (ht y ma) recur on certain occasions without 
the reapphcalion of ihe im^ ressions which first excited them, 
or they may be re-excited b) the same impressions ; so the 
motive actions must, in the first place, be excited or caused^ 
and afterwards they may recur on certain occasions without 
being immediately preceded by that which first caused thenu 
And as the conscient actions of the sensonum may be excited 
by various impressions ihroijgh the medum of at least fi a 
modifications of nerves, so the motiv^e actions may be excit» d 
by diiFerent causes, that i-, they nja> be the consequents of lisf*- 
ferent antecedents. The ordinary antecedents of the motive 
actions are the ronpcient actions of the sensonum ; next to 
the-e are actions commencing in various parts of th( body, 
and extending to the brain, some of which are conscient and 
others unconscient. Other cau^es of ihe motive actions of the 
brain we would express by the rather loose but convt nien£ 
phrase of morbid afftctions of the brain itself, as lii some ca* 
ses of epilepsy, 

But the motive actions of the brain must be excited mmi'^ 
more times, by the cause whiclj first excites them, than the 
conscient actions, before such a lendency to their recurrence 
is produced that they may recur on what we call occations^ 
A man need see an elepharit but very few times, before the ac- 
tion of his sensorium^ excited by seeing xhe elephant, may re- 
cur when thee!e{)hant is absent — before the man may have a 
real idea of the elephant ; but when a child begins to walk, or 
a man begins to dance, the const ient actions must excite the 
motive a great many limes, before tlie child can walk, or the 
maj» dance, without thinking anything about it. 

We will now show what we mean by occasions, as above 

37 



190 

used. When one thought succeeds another on arcotint of 
some relation between them, we say that the thought whi( h 
precedes, is the occasion ofthe thought which succerds. W«!(i 
respect to the motive actions, we cannot, in (ew words, show 
distinctly what we mean, when we say that they occur on 
occasions : we must suppose a case — Sfippor^e that I hH\6 
performed a dozen different actions in immediate succession, 
a thousand times or more ; now if a desire excite that motive 
action of the brain tha* corresponds to the first of this dozcQ 
actions, and then I think of sonjething quite foreign to these 
actions, the remaining eleven may still follow ; and if so, we 
should say that one motive action ofthe brain is the occasion 
©f that other which immediately succeeds it. 

When we say that one thought, or one motive action ofthe 
brain, is the occasion of another, we do not mean that such 
thoughts and such actions are not, as truly and as really, cau^ 
ses of the thoughts and actions which succeed them, as im- 
pressions upon the senses are causes of sensations and per- 
ceptions. But these causes or antecedents are different from 
the antecedents of these thoughts and actions, iht first time or 
times they occurred ^ on this account, and for sound's sake, 
we call them occasions. Indeed, considering the notions gen- 
erally annexed to the word cituse^ and to the word occasion^ 
we think it would always be more correct to say that one 
event is the occasion of another, than to say that oiie event is 
the cause of another. 

One grand reason why men 50 generally believe tliat all 
the motions of their voluntary organs, even the most fannjiar, 
are excited by cof>scient actions, or to use a common, but ve- 
yy mischievous word, by the " to///," is undoubtedl} this : 
All motions which we perform when we are exper menting 
with ourselves, to determine whether they W so or not, cer- 
tainly are thus excited ; of course, instead of coming directly 



2n 

at the truth 5n this way, our experimenting only serves io, 
.confirm us iu error. Bat let a man who is trudging onward^ 
irui^ing Oil his wordly plots, stop of a sudden, and think whe- 
ther he have been willing, desiring, or thinking something re« 
lative to, every step which he hss taken for miles back. 

It would be absurd to say that he has, but was not conscious 
of It at the time, for to will is but to think, and to think is to 
be conscious — to say that a man wills or desires any thmg, 
and IS not conscious of it at the time, is a downright contra- 
diction. Av.d as for sa) ing that a man wills every step which 
he takes, whsle thinking of something quHe foreign to his 
walking, hui cannot afterwards remember it, it would be say* 
ssig someihing which no man can ever prove to be true, bat 
which we have the foilovving good reasons for believing to be 
false. 

First. It is strange indeed, if certain thoughts or conscient 
actions do occur several thousand times wi'hin an hour or 
two, and cannot recur at the end of this time, so coni.ected 
T^iih other thoughts, as altogether to constitute a reihember- 
ing (hat these certain thoughts have occured within this time- 
strange, I say, since it so often happens that a conscient ac 
tion of the sensormm, having occurred two or three times to* 
day, may recur a week hence without impression. 

Secoiid. When conscient actions do actually excite motive 
ones, we can remember it ; — we must add, sometimes, and not 
add always,^ — lest it be said that we beg the question. But 
this every man will own, when he performs any new or un- 
common act, or even when he quickens his pace while walk* 
ing, he can afterwards remember that bethought somethnig 
about it — that he willed it, and well may he wonder that he 
cannot remember that he willed his most common actions, if 
be do indeed will them all. 

Taiid. Phiiofiophei'g of every class admit that wbiitever 



292 

ihinks can Jhink but one thought or act hnt one action at a 
time ; neither can they do oiherws^e than admit, that to wsil, 
as the expression is, is to (liiuk, as much as to guess, to judj^e, 
or to cogitate: — they must admit, that wilhrsg sup|;oses an 
ait, or actions of that which thinks. Now as a vvaiki ,g maa 
is all the time putting one leg before the other, whtrt 'S (he 
time for him to lay plot?, and judge aboutmaiters and thhigs, 
if every step must be preceded by a certa n act of that vviiich 
Ia>s plots and judges ? How is it that a man w rites, and rea- 
sous within himself at the same tmie, if boih these processes 
suppose different trains of actions of that wliich thinks hut 
©ne thought or act? but one action at a Ximv ? IVe say that 
when a reasoning map is writir^g, every particular letter 
v,hich he makes is not imnitdiateiy preceded by a particular 
desire or willing to make nuch letter ; but this is what we sup- 
pose takes place : — we suppose that when a man tirst learns 
to write, first begins to make letters, he has a particular 
thought, will, or desire, to make each and every letter whn li 
he does make ; aiid that when he first begins to write words, 
be attends to the writing of each word. But after long prac- 
tice, his zoriting machine gats so liabituated to writing the let- 
ters of words in a proper order, that it needs only one touch 
of his thinking part to put it in motion, and it will write a 
whole word while this tj?ini iiig part is engaged in a reasoning 
process.* After still longer practice in writing, the thinking 
part may think over a whole sentence, and giving the wriii g 
part one rommai d to ^^ rite i^, it is done, even if the master 

* Besides other evidence of the above opinion, the following may 
be mentioned : Wh«^n a man is in the habit of writii g a word 
Tir<>ng. he will continue to wiite it wrong, i/7ip do not a/lend to ity 
atter he knows that he is in such habit ; — he will continue to do so 
until he gets in the habit of writing it cnrrectl}'. Many and many 
a tin»e has the present wriltf written lire word doctrines, doclnngs^ 
^fter be knew belter. 



29 S 

turn away to some other business, as he often doe^, after he 

hn^i set tise walking machine in 0['erai!O4 .- Ac( oidii-^ to 

the [)rinci[jlesof itnrnaterfahsm, it cahuot !)c liiat a nian u:!ls, 
aiid judges or ima;i;ine>, at the satiR titiie ; if wiinn^ and jih; >•- 
itii^ are uot !he same tiling. Aiid we, even we, do ?;oi heiit ve 
tliai he does, although our leading pnncipies are as d>tFv rent 
fiOMi Iho-eof imnialenahsnn as sruth is fronj error ; maS would 
Hiore easily admit of liie suppo>!ilion that a man may will or 
des:re at (he same time lha< t^ome other inte!!ecludi proctss 
ib going on, Bui to return. — 

Fourth. The motions of the ribs Rnd diaphragm (orff;v.s 
concerned in brealliing.) niay be ar< elerated, retardiO, o: for 
a i.mesupprei?sed, by a uessre ; hence the diHj)J.rH^m, and (he 
iTiuscles that elevate th,e ribs, may as \\roya ri\ be called v(.l- 
Untary as an} other ; but in s si'epaig ^ta(e. (we do .uol .-aj 
a dreaming state,) a sUite in vvhnh it would be a xoiuta (o s;.v 
th;tt conscient actions of the sensorium occur, wf continue 
to breaih. Now if ihe motive actions of the brain occui in 
sleep, without being immediately preceded by ct,n,scient ac- 
tio.ns, why may they not do so in a waking state I 

Why should it be difficult (or men to adunt iisat the motive 
actions of the brain may occur, or rasiser rt cur. on occasions, 
i. e. vvithout being preceded by ihe same aiilecedents vvjjk h 
preceded them when they tirst occurred ; smce tfie} naibt 
and will admit that the conscient actioiis do thus occur ? 

We have now been endeavoring to show that llio motive 
actions immediately succeed some of the conscent actons of 
the sensorium, (which actions, to distinguish them (rom o*h- 
ers, we say constitute desires or wilJUig^,) as subsecjuems or 
etfects of such actions ; and furthermoie, thai ihe niolive ac- 
tions may, after much practice, recur on occasions, as well as 
the con'^cient. Bit ever} conscient action or thought is not 
succeeded by a motive actiou — we aie lioi aiwajs moving 



^hen we are thinking ; and the question now is : What coa- 
arient actions do the motive ones follow ; or, as we will put it, 
when do they follow ? It may be said that when a man is at a 
tavern, and those thoughts occur in him which constitute a 
desire to go home, he gets up and goes home. This is very 
plain and satisfactory ; but if the man also have a desire to 
stay and hear the end of a story, what then ? — We proceed 
to answer this que.'^tion. We suppose that there is some cause, 
in every case, for a man to be doing whatever he is doing, 
whether he be sitting, standing, walking, or whatever else 
you may mention ; and such cause is either mechanical force, 
or a desi re of his own. We hold, too, that whatever a man be 
doing, this will he continue to do, until there be some cause 
for his ccasijig, either that he get tired out, or stopped by me- 
chanical force, or until he have a greater desire to do some- 
thing else, than to do what he is doing. If a man have a de- 
sire to do one thing, and a desire to do another thing, both 
which things he cannot do, or cannot do at the same time, 
he acts agreeable to the predominant desire ; but if the two 
desires exactly equal, counterbalance, or neutralize each other, 
he at'ts according to neither, except one of the desires be to 
do, or keep doing what he is doing ; in this case he keeps do- 
ing so. These are ultimate and universal facts, or laws of 
volition ; and tliere is no mystery about them, unless it be 
mysterious that a ball should not move when impulsed by two 
equal and opposite forces, or with one force which is equal, 
hut not superior to the force by which it is attracted to the 
spot where it lies. If, then, the man at a tavern have a great- 
er desire to stay and hear the end of a story, than he has \o 
go home, he sta)s and hears the story ; or if his desire to go 
home equals, and no more, his desire to hear the story through, 
he stays and hears it through. 

Some may think that they can bring objections to the doc* 



20a 

trine, tb^f nothing but physical forre ever eanses a xoell mas 
io perform any motion, any contraction of his voluntary mus- 
cles, which he does not desire or choose to do ; (hey may say 
that the criminal who loves life, walks of himself to the gal- 
Iow^5, yet his desire to he hung can not exceed his desire to 
walk. But all such objections are only seeming ones : the 
truth is, thecrimmal cannot have his choice, to cease to wa'k 
towards the gallows or to he hung, and he knows it. It is for 
him to choose whether like a man he will walk to the gallows, 
or whether, like an ohstinate fellow, he will be carried to the 
gallows, and his greater de ire, i. e. his choice, is to walk. In- 
deed, when physical force propels a man, it is not the man 
that acts, but he is acted upon, and it would be philosophic 
cally correct to say, that a well man never performs any act 
or motion, which he does not choose or desire to perform— 
certain habitual movements, excepted ; arid these never oc» 
cur contrary to a wish of his, at the time. A man may be 
placed in circumstances which he would not, and 'of course, 
do things, voluntarily, which he would not, were it not for 
such circumstances ; but wliatever he does do he does fioin 
choice, we may say. a necessary choice, if he do it in pref- 
ferrence to suffering the unavoidable consequences of not do- 
ing it. We have not a dozen laws of volition — they arc but 
few ; — the most important one is. that a man do that (possi- 
ble act) which he has an uncounterbalanced desire to do. To 
have such desire, is to choo?e, to please, to determine, to 
will, to " have a mind," to do the thing liesired. We may ob- 
serve, however, that according to the co'nmon acceptation of 
terms, io will is to have thoughts which immediately precede 
the motive actions of the brain, whereas, to determine do 
a thing tomorrow, is to liave such thoughts occur as to com 
Stitute a conviction that, if notiiiiig uiuxpected turn up, it 
wiil be your pleasure, or choictj to do ttie thing tonionow. 



296 

It is a thing whirb, owing to circiimsffince? you tliink of, you 
do Dol Ivdsv a gr< aUr desire lo do jiozo than you have to do 
gomelhi.'ig else incOiasistent with ihe thing you delernuiie to 
do to morrow. 

Should any one assert that a willing consists in something 
fnore than in having: certain ideas occur, one after another, * 
jet him obrerve as we!! as he can. what goes on in himself, let 
him be tHrefii! Uiat he is not himself «ieceived, and that he 
do not attempt to deceive 01 h^rs, by empty sounds ; and 
then let hia^ teil us what it is. To be sure, when we come 
to treat <if the passions, we shall mantain that they consist ia 
something more than conscient actions of the sensorium, and 
admit th.al what is coinmonlif called desire, may consist in 
something more than conscient actions of the sensormm alone. 
But although this will do very well for us, since we maintain 
that thuikiui^ and sensing are not functions of an unextended 
thing ; we h^ve a curiosity to know what the immaterialists 
Will tell us (hat wiU'ing consists in, if it he not essentially the 
ttie same as thinking, — which, by tiie by, we suppose to be 
the same as, to have ttioughts, and to have thoughts the same 
as- to have ideas. They wont tell us, will they, that their un- 
extended thing has part«,— -a thirdcing part and a willing part ; 
aid that a man may think and will at the same time, and yet 
thinking and willing are not the same thing? If they do, we 
trust they will he so good as to show us why an act of the will- 
insc part can, and an act of the thinkin;^ part cannot, be imme- 
diately succeeded by motive actions of the brain and nerves, 
or if they please, by contraction<^ of the muscles. Perhaps 
they ma^ tell us that it is so, because such are the laws of na-^ 
ture, and that they can tell us no more about it. Very good, 
but may it not just as easily and rather cheaper be a law of 
Jialure, f^r certain motive actions of the brain to set in, ori 
the occurrence of certain thou^jhti ? ISlow we kaow thai w« 



297 

have thoughts and of course, a thinking part, but we have 
no evidence at all, that we have any willing part, besides the 
thinking part ; we cannot discover in any of our willings that 
we have any thing besides sensations and thoughts. Anti if 
simple truth had preceded complicated error, and we had 
never heard any thing about the ^^■wiW and the many other 
powers 2.ndfucidties of the Soul, (all thingless, and the second 
and third very ambiguous names,) we never should have 
thought any thing, more or less, about volition than this : — 
on the occurrence of certain sensations and thoughts, or cer- 
tain thoughts alone, certain motions of the body immediately 
follow. 

As we maintain that not more than one sensorial desire 
can exist in the same man, at one and the same instant, and 
as it is clear, that, in this instant, the desire which does exist, 
cannot be equalled or counterbalanced by an opposite de- 
sire ; it may be asked why, the moment a man has any de- 
sire to do a thing, the motive actions of the brain do not set in 
and the man start to do this thing ? 

In answer to this question, we offer the following conjec- 
ture : We suppose that thoughts succeed thoughts, a little 
more quickly than motive actions succeed thoughts. HencCj 
if conscient actions, constitutmg a desire, be iramediately suc- 
ceeded by such as cnostitute an opposite desire, there is no 
time for the motive actions to set in so as to give rise to mus- 
cular contractions ; but if one desire be not immediately sue* 
seeded by an opposing thought, the motive actions do set in. 
But we know from what we have experienced in ourselves, 
that after a man has set out to do a thing, a " second thought'" 
sometimes stops him quicker than a cannon ball would do. 

Different desires give rise to different motions ; this will be 
admitted on all hands, for it is but saying, in ihe language of 
the schools, that a man's will govern^ his actionb ;—it is iQ 



298 

state an ultimate fact, or law of nature, or volition, and none 
but those who disbelieve this, will talk about explaining it. 
We don't hear anj one talk about explaining laws of nature : 
to explain her phenomena, is to explain every thing to be ex- 
plained. The Deity himself cannot explain a law of nature 
in the sense in which the word explain ought to be used by 
men. 

When two different desires which are exactly equal, imme- 
diately succeed each other, the man may be said to be choice- 
ne-uter^ but when there be but one desire, or when one desire 
is more than equalled by another, he may be said to be 
choice-absolute, 

A man seldom remains choice-neuter for any length of 
time ; for as the sensorium is continually thinking, some 
thought is apt to occur, which is sufficient to turn the scale, 
already on the balance : when this is done, the man is choice- 
absolute, and the motive actions set in. 

Ninety. nine times out of a hundred, the thought which 
turns the scale, or the desire which gives rise to action, when 
not counteracted by an opposing thought, is so trrfling,* that 
one can hardly say what induced him to do so and so, and 
will very readily say, '• 1 might have done otherwise if I had 
had a mind to." This we grant, objecting only to the lan- 
guage used. If the conscient actions of his sensorium had 
been difFerer.t, his actions would have been different ; but as 
it was, his actions were as much necessary consequents of 
their antecedents, as other effects are necessary consequents 
of their antecedents. 

However much the short-sighted, and those who have an 

* A thongfht may be said to be hijlhi^, when it does not relate 
to any thing of importance — does not relate to any thing which, if 
it do or do not occur, or do or do not exist, can make but very little 
©dds in the happiness or misery of him iu whom the thought occurs. 



299 

interest in choking truth, may talk and scribble, the fact is as 
stubborn and unalterabie as the laws of nature, that whatever 
a nnan has done, he could luA otherwise than do, and his do- 
ing so, is absolute proof that he, as he was, under all the cir- 
cumstan( es of the case, could not do otherwise than he did. 
If a man do not do a thing, it is proved that lie might not, 
nay, could not do this thing at the time. — To say that a man 
might have done so and so, if he had desired, chose, or had a 
" mind to," is to say nothing at all in favor of the doctrine.of 
free agency, or ajiainst the doctrine of necessity. So may 
water run up hill, zfsufficient force be given it, — so may gun- 
powder not explode on the application of a spark, if it be 
well drenched with water ; nay, water must run up hill, and 
gunpowder cannot explode, under tliese circumstances. In 
all cases where the antecedents are ditFerent, the consequents 
not only may, but must, be different ; for such are the laws 
of nature. 

The sequences of nature are linked together, if we may use 
a figurative expression, by an indissoluble bond : the same 
antecedents must, under the same circumstances, be followed 
by the same consequents ; and every individual act or event, 
whether it occur without or wiihin the human skull, is the 
consequent of an antecedent, or in older language, the effect 
of a cause. It is one of the links in the chain of events that 
constitute the phenomena of nature. 

We hardly know what to say of a man who admits that 
there are no events without causes ; that a cause is that 
which must, from the nature of things, be followed by an ef- 
fect"; and then sa}s that man is a free agent. He might as 
well admit that two times and twice are synonjmous terms, — 
that twice four are equal to eight, and then say that two times 
four are not equal to eight. 

Some may say that this doctrine, if generally believed, 



300 

would have a bad effect on society, and that (bey " would 
not believe it if they knew it is true ?" But my dear reader, 
you cannot help believing it. The laws of belief are the 
same with you as with me ; you may not own that you be- 
lieve it ; you may even assert that you do not, and attempt 
to argue against it ; but (o assert, or to argue, is not to believe 
or disbelieve. But how do you know that the state of soci- 
ety would be worse than it now is — how do you know that 
there would be less human' happiness, or more human mise- 
ry in the world, than there now is, if the doctrine of necessity 
should be universally believed ? Have you any reason to sup- 
pose that a general knowledge of truth will increase the sum 
of human misery as much as it will increase the sum of hu- 
man happiness ? To be sure, owing to the present state of 
mankind — owing to the errors which at present prevail — the 
diffusion of truth and the consequent eradication of error 
might give rise to some upturnings and overhaulings w^hich 
would disturb the peace and comfort of many an ant's nest; 
and we might expect a mighty fuss and stir among them. — 
But we have no reason to suppose but that great good would 
result to mankind, as one great family, from the diifusion of 
truth ; and like good surgeons who produce a little tempora- 
ry pain by probing and washing an old sore, to bring about a 
cure, every philanthropist ought to persevere in gradually 
and tenderly eradicating ignorance, error, and all their evil 
progeny. Knowingly, we ought to w^ound no one's feelings 
uselessly. But w^hen argument may be aided by giving an 
absurdity a good setting off] 1 tliink we are justifiable in do- 
ing it. 

Few appear to be sensible of the degree to which the hap- 
piness of the human family might probably be increased, if a 
few million of dollars, and the labor of a (ew thousand men, 
should be yearly expended in diffusing truth, and promoting 



301 

sound morality, — the machinery for choking truth and diffus- 
ing error, being at the same time motionless. Men would 
soon begin to believe alike ; for truth is one universal thing, 
and all who are taught the whole truth and nothing but the 
truth, must believe alike. 

Wars between nations, wars between church and people, 
wars between neighbors, and wars within one's own breast, 
wo'jld soon cease to exist on account of difference of opinion. 
Merit or demerit would no longer consist in believing or dii- 
believing any thing, and the expression ''he that believeth 
not, shall be damned," would not be understood. But vir- 
tue would coijsist in increasing the sum of human happiness, 
and diminishing the sum of human misery. Societies would 
be formed for the diffusion of philosophical truth, and the 
promotion of real virtue ; and he that detected errors or de- 
veloped truths would be as good as his neighbor, whose 
brains might be a little more phlegmatick. Different and 
more effectual inducements would be held forth for men to do 
good, and refrain iVom doing evil ; — if any one did society an 
injury he would be degraded, with compassion — he would not 
be held up for professing to believe that one and three are sy- 
nonymous terms, and the like o' that. But if he reformed, 
as manifested, not by word, but by deed, he would be again 
restored to society and publicly applauded. And what is a 
very important consideration, the incalculable amount of hu- 
man misery which consists in the "'horrors of death !" and 
the fears of "an eternal hell fire !" would be blown away, as 
chaff before the wind. 

We should here close this chapter, were it not for the erro- 
neous notions entertained by many, concerning the succes- 
sion of a man's thoughts. There are many who — to use their 
own expressions— believe that a man's thoughts are uudet 



802 

the confrolf of his '' will ;" that he may, and in many instan- 
ces o'lght *'{o banish thoughts from his mind." &c. &;c. 

Perhaps there is no other subject under heaven, concern- 
ing which men so generally entertain erroneous views, 
which views may so easily be shown to be erroneous, as they 
do concerning this. Men find that they can think as they 
think, and not only so, but if they please they can think of this, 
that, and Hother subject ; hence they very readily and mcon- 
siderately assent to tlie position, that a man may think as he 
''has a mind to ;" and suppose that this is as much as to say, 
a man's thoughts are under the conrrole of his will. But this 
doctrine will not stand the test of inquiry. What is the 
Zvill ? — Jjftt ns prorf*f>d upon the principles of iramaterialism, 
and ask, candidly^ what is the will ? is it any thing distinct 
from the mind and the brain ? No. Is it a part of the brain ? 
No. Is it a part of the mind? No; for that which is unex- 
tended has no parts. Is it ^faculty of the mind ? It is gener- 
ally so considered. It appears then that a faculty of an un- 
extended thing which is known to exist only by its faculties, 
is no part of such thing! But what is a faculty of the mind ? 

' hem — hem Weil,— it is nothing but a/act. 

It is a fact that on the occurrence of certain thoughts, certain 
muscular contractions immediately follow ; it is a fact that 
on the occurrence of certain thoughts, certain other thoughts 
succeed •, when a man, for instance, thinks he will think about 
heaven, he thinks more about heaven. It is because of these 
facts that we say the mind has the faculty of causing the vol- 
untary muscles to contract, and of causing its own self to 
think about this, that, and the other thing ; this faculty we 
call the rcill. Well, M?\ Lnmaterialisi, since you spake as a 
philosopher, and not as a poet, or an orator before a popular 
assembly, we must tell you that we object to your language, 
in the strongest terms. It is calculated to deceivCj — it is ol«l 



303 

language got fen into use, in days of ignorance ; and is calcur 
lated to keep alive the very notions that gave rise to it : the 
word zwiV/ is generally understood to mean something existing 
in the head besides di fact ! However if su'^h language is in 
such general use, that it is better, for the present, to use it, 
than to invent a substitute, we permit you to use it. But we 
must ask you what causes the will [the fact !] to act ? We 
suppose you will grant that every willing is an act of that 
which wills •, but tliere are no events without causes, no gaps 
in the great chain of events, and we do not see but that you 
must suppose another will, to cause your old one to act, and 
so go on, supposing wills^ one atop of another, until you get 
to heaven, the Great First Source of all events ! ! 

Immaterialist, — 1 must confess this is rather difficult ground 
to maintain — more so than I ever befoje thought. I have 
heard so much about '' the will,*' about a man '' controlling 
his thoughts," and so much of censure when a man chances 
to believe differently from his neighbor!?, that I never dreamt 
but that there is a will in a man's head, that makes his thoughts 
come and go at pleasure, free and absolute pleasure ; and 
that a man in whom this something does not cause good 
thoughts to occur, but suffers evil ones to occur, is to blame ; 
and in some instances deserves to have his body tied up to a 
stake, and made to smart most wretchedly, by having a fire 
built about it ! — But I will take the ground of the late pro- 
fessor Brown of Edinburg. He was an immaterialist, and an 
acute reasoner too, though not quite so orthodox as I could 
wish ; but as 1 am drawn into company where J mnsi reason^ 
I will take such ground as I can defend without giving up the 
capitoL^' Brown maintains that all our sensations, thoughts, 
and emotions — in a word, all oar intellectual phenomena, are 

* The doctrine of soul, as something distinct from the brain. 



304 

states of an unextended and indivisible mind ; and that this 
mind can exist in but one state at a time. Of course, to willy 
does not suppose the existence of any thing but the mind in a 
certain state ; and to will a motion of one of our members, is 
to have the mind in such a certain state as it is, immediately 
anterior to such muscular contractions as produce the mo- 
tion ; — to will a thought, is but to have the mind in a certain 
state immediately anterior to its existing in such state as con- 
stitutes the thought. Does this sense of the expression, to 
will a thought, suit you any better ? 

We, — To be sure, this is not so absurd as to say, a fact cau- 
ses thoughts to exist, and prevents the existence of thoughts 
which have no being; but the question before us does not re- 
late altogether to the fitness of expressions : the main ques- 
tion is, whether there be any thing like free and independent 
agency in the succession of a man's thoughts ; whether every 
thought which does occur, must not as necessarily occur, as 
pain must follow the application of a red hot iron to the skin 
of a living and healthy man ; in short, whether it be, or be 
not, the effect of a cause ? And to establish such free agency, 
we should as soon have thought of your referring to any other 
authority as to that of John Brown. Although Brown 
was not a professed materialist nor necessarifin, he has done 
more, perhap?, than any other one man towards establishing 
materialism and other important truths. Locke did consid- 
erable, by banishing the world of innate ideas. Every man 
who dispels any of the metaphysical darkness of the schools, 
furthers the cause of materialism, whether he designs to or 
not. But to the point. It must be granted, that according 
to the principles of Biown, the mind changes states as fre- 
quently as we have different sensations, thoughts and emo- 
tions ; and to change state supposes action ; and an action is 
am event, whether the agent acting be discernible or not. — ■ 



i 



305 

Now, where are jou : A certain state of the mind (a state 
\vhich constitutes a desire, zvill, or loilUng^) is immediately 
succeeded by a certain other state, constituting a thought ; 
but what caused the mind to exist in the ^/-.sl state ? — no 
events without causes — no gaps in the everlasting chain of 
events — what will made the mind will, to think the thought ? 

Immaterialist, — Reason is a dangerous thing ; it ought not 
to he exercised in the present case ; — we may reason away 
all the exalted sentiments concerning human nature, and 
make a man a mere -organized machine, who is no more abso- 
lutely culpable for any thing he does, in the eyes of his Maker, 
than a cotton factorv ; destrojing, thus, the fundamental pria- 
ciples of that wholesome morality which is productive of so 
much human happiness, I know that when I am deter- 
mined to think of any subject, [ can and do think of it, and 
when I choose to think of some other subject, I can [do] 
think of it ; and this is all I mean by saying my thoughts are 
under the control of my will. — I'il hear no more of your mis- 
chievous philosophy ; I am satisfied with my own opinions, 
and 1 leave you to enjoy yours, — May God have mercy on 
your souls ! 

We. — That man is no numskull — he feels the force of ar- 
guments ; but he is either too proud to admit that he is wiser 
to-day than he was yesterday, or else he has some selfish mo- 
tives in keeping alive ancient absurdities. He appears to be 
alarmed at our reasoning away the fundamental principles of 
that sound morahty which is productive of so much hum^n 
happiness ; but he has too much good sense to suppose, for a 
moment, but that more good than evil will result, in tlie end, 
to mankind, as one great family, from the diffusion of truth. 
He has not, however, and never will have, se.se enough to 
reason away the laws of nature, or what is equally difficult, 

fe) refute the doctrine of necesssity. 

33 



He says that when he is determined to, or chooses to think 
of any subject, he can [does] think of such subject ; and that 
this is all he means by saying his thoughts are under the con- 
trol of his will. But if this be all he mean, we admit that his 
thoughts are under the control of his will ; and it argues ex- 
actly as much in favor of man's free agency, and consequent- 
ly against the doctrine of necessity, as to say, that when fire 
is applied to gunpowder, the gunpowder can [does] explode. 
Let us saj, for instance, that a man is determined to think of 
heaven. This language suffers nothing in sense by render- 
ing it thus: — the man thinks he will ihmk of or about heaven. 
But is there no cause for his thinking he will think thus ? If 
he ci^st back a little, he will tind that these thoughts were 
preceded by other thoughts, in some way or other, related to 
them, and these, again, by others, and so on. He will see 
that, considering his sensorial tendencies and the laws of 
thought, every thought which does in him occur, must as ne- 
cessarily occur, as an unconfined body must move when 
struck by a heavier body swiftly moving. 

A man having got so far as lo think he will think of heaven, 
already/ thinks of heaven ; and as all thoughts relative to 
heaven are related to each other, we should expect, according 
to the principles which we have said regulate the succession 
of thoughts, that he would think more about heaven, than 
merely to think he will think of heaven. 

We see that it argues nothing to say a man may think as 
be pleases, chooses, or " has a mind to ;" and besides, the 
expression is very nonserjsical, as much so as to say, a man 
may think as he thinks ; for lo please, choose, or have a mind 
to, is but to think. 

If there be a wiU'm a man's head, which may control bis 
thoughts, in the sense in which these two words are geneially 
understood, why, when a man is tired and worn down t)} the 



367 

toils and anxietips of the clay, does he not stop his thoughts 2 
He would (hen be in a refreshing sleep. Why, like a fool, 
does hetumhieand think half the night, anxiously desiring to 
go to sleep ? Surely, it must be a very strange and powerless 
controller to put into such an active organ as the brain, that 
cannot stop its actions. 

Why, if a man may zoill his thoughts, does he not always 
think of a man's name when he wi — desires it ? If you do 
think of a man's name on a desired occasion, it occurs to you 
in this way : Some ideas, more or less remotely related to the 
idea of the man's name, are, in some way or other, caused io 
occur ; — the fact that you desire to thirik of his name, is proof 
that some such ideas have occurred : the desire, as it is cal- 
led, consists of some such ideas ; and as ideas that are related 
are apt to suggest each other, it is clear on what principle the 
idea of the man's name occurs to you. 

But why all this talk to prove that the actions of that which 
thinks, are not controlled by — the actions of that which thinks, 
when it may be done by one short argument ? The very ex- 
pression, will a thought implies a contradiction. Who caa 
will a thmg until he have an idea of what to will ? But the 
instant a man have an idea of what thought to will, that very 
instant is the thought already present — it has occurred accor- 
ding to the principles which we have mentioned in several 
parts of this work. 

We must here be permitted to offer a few remarks, which, 
however, relate more particularly to what we have said in the 
fore part of this chapter, than to what we have just been ad- 
vancing. 

We have said, that on the occurrence of certain conscient 
actions of the sensorium, certain motive actions of the braia 
and nerves immediately set in, and certain muscular contrac* 
tipns immediately follow. The^e consc4eat actioas we call 



308 

desires, merely to distinguish them from con?cient actions of 
the sensorium that are not immediately succeeded by motive 
actions. In doing this, however, we use the word desire, in 
a sense somewhat pecuhar, for there may or may not be, that 
consciousness which is generally called desire. These de- 
sires we call thoughts, also, for we call every conscient ac- 
tion of the sensorium alone, a thought. Should the reader 
ask why we do not use (he word will'm the instances in which 
we use the word desire, we answer, because we fear the con- 
sequences of using this word ; we think it would be more apt 
to suggest erroneous notions than the word desire. 

Perhaps the reader may find more diifcufty than we do in 
admitting that it is a thought which, through the medium of 
the motive actions of the nervous system, gives rise to volun- 
tary contractions. If he do, it is because he does not have 
the same notion of a thought that we do : he m:4y own that a 
a;?7/m^ supposes consciousness, but does not kie\ right in call- 
ing it a thought, or thinking ; and (or this very good reason, 
he calls it a willing and erer has done so. But he must re- 
inemDer that, in many cases, words which are quite different 
in themselves mean the same thing in reality. 

If a man would have just such notions as we do, concern- 
ing thoughts or ideas, and concerning volition ; he must put 
aside all preconceited notions ; must look right into a man's 
head, and there Sf^e the sensorium near the centre of the brain, 
with nerves running up to it from all parts of the body, and 
see it acting one action after another, (calling each one 
of these actions, a thought or idea) and see that when a 
certain action of the sensorium occurs, a motive action com- 
mences in a certain nervous tract and runs down into a mus- 
cle, and a contraction of the muscle immediately follows. 
Should any one a<»k why one conscient action of the sensori- 
um is succeeded by a certain motive action of the aervou^ 



^09 

system, in preference fo another ; we would af^k him why 
events out of the skull, occur in any kind of order, — why ihe 
event B, instead of the event L, X, G, or any other event, 
immediately succeeds the event A. 

We may, perhaps be told, that, notwithstanding all we have 
said, the existence of the motive actions of the nervous sys- 
tem, is not a fact known, but an hypothesis — we grant it. We 
are not immediately sensible of their existence — they are not 
objects of sense ; but the diurnal revolution of the earth is 
also an hypothesis. The supposed exiitence of the motjve ac- 
tions of the nervous system enables the physiologist to explain 
the phenomena of volition, and many phenomena which he 
witnesses in disease and while experimenting upon animals, 
even after their death 5 as much as the supposed diurnal 
revolution of the earth, enables the astronomer to explain 
certain astronomical phenomena. We know of no well as- 
certained fact thai tends to disprove either of these supposi- 
tions. 



■00- 



CHAPTER XXII. 

On ihe Passions, 

The passions consist of thoughts and natural sensations, not 
immediately excited by agents exterior to the body. Some 
of them consist of copscient actions that commence in (lie 
nerves and extend to the sensorium, others consist of con- 
scient actions that commence in the sensorium and extt nd 
down the nerves. The former we propose to denominaie 
the organic passions ; the latter, the sensorial passions. 

We say the passions consist of thoughts and natural sen- 
sations, not Decause we suppose there is any thin^ in nature 



310 

^hich is not, ptrlcllj speaking, truly natural ; but to exclude 
from our definition of the passions, all those s^ensations which 
arise from morbid staies of the system, as the tooth-ache, the 
belly-ache, the pain of the gout, &c. &c. 

The definition of passion, which we have given, is, we 
think more philosophically correct than any other that ran 
be given. The only objection to it, is, the word has not gen- 
erally been used in so broad a sense ; for according to this 
definition it may be contended that even the pains of a nat- 
ural labor must be considered as constituting one of the organ- 
ic passions, and it would require a good deal of metaphysical 
subtlety to make it appear that they do not. 

As we do not generally know. precis eli/^ by what and how, 
the organic passions are excited, we shall take the liberty 
to say they are excited by, or arise from, states of the 
organs. When the stomach contains a quantity of heal- 
thy gastric fluid, and no food, it is in such state that hun- 
^er arises ; — when the organs subservient to generation are 
in a state of plenitude, or in an irritable state, the venereal 
passion often arises without what may be called an exciting 
cause. 

The sensorial passions may, also, be said to be owing to 
the s/a/e« of our organs, and especially to the state of the 
sensorium. The actions which constitute the sensorial pas- 
sions, we say, commence in the sensorium ; if a man become 
angry on account of what he sees, hears, or feels, we do not 
say, the anger commenced in the eye, ear, or shin — the ac- 
tions of the optic, auditory or cutaneous nerves constitute no 
part of the anger. And as no anger would arise on the oc- 
currence of these sensations, if the sensorium were destitute 
of tendencies, it may trulv be said, that the sensorial passions 
are more especially owing to the state of the sensorium, than 
to the state of any other part of the system. But if it were 



sn 

possible for two persons to possess sensorial tendencies pre< 
cisely alike, in kind, number, strength, relation, in short, m 
every possible respect ; we believe that one of these persons 
mi}^ht bt'come angry on seeing, hearing, or feeling, what the 
other might see, hear, or feel and not become angry. We 
are led to this opinion by the fact, (hat the same man does 
not, at different times, become angry on what would be ad- 
mitted to be equally vexing ; and yet we cannot suppose this 
difference of susceptibility to anger is owing to atiy change 
that has taken place in his sensorial tendencies. What would 
vex the weary laborer at eve, he may with patience bear, 
after a recruiting night's sleep ; — what would be taken in 
good humour by the man who has just taken his dram, may 
the next hour make him mad. It appears, then, that so far 
as the sensorial passions are depending on .v^i/es of our or- 
gans, they are not owing altogether to the sensorial tenden- 
cies, thoiigh fhese are essential to their existence ; it appears, 
also, that when the nervous system is in such state as it is, af- 
ter exhaustion from fatigue, muscular or sensorial, or from 
high stimulation, it more readily takes on such actions as 
constitute anger, (and the same might be said of some other 
passions,) than at other times. 

According to our views, a man is never in a passion, or 
more properly, a passion is never in man, when there is no 
conscient action of a nerve. Actions of the sensorium alone, 
may be more or less vivid, w^e admit ; but when vivid, they 
alone constitute nothing more than what we would call vivid 
thinking, — A man's thoughts may be distinct and numerous, 
but they do not, of themselves, constitute a passion. 

The organic passions are often called appetites ^ the sen- 
sorial, especially the fainter ones, are often called emotions. 
In most instances of the sensorial passions^ the nervous ac- 
tions are confined to the nerves about the epigastrium, or that 



'312 

upper and middle region of the abdomen, wbich includes the 
" pit of ihe stomach ;" but in some instances, as gamesters 
well know, the nervous actions thrill down the back, even m- 
to the extremities. 

When any thing is first told to us, which does not accord 
with what we have been in ^he habit of believing, it at first 
appears to us irrational ; but on more mature consider- 
ation we often think of some fact which we admit as such, 
but which we must admit to be equally inexplicable with the 
thing told us ; this thing then ceases to appear so strange and 
irrational as before we thought of such fact. Men have been 
so mnch in the habit of thinking that conscient actions com- 
mence in the organic extremities of nerves, and extend to^^ 
wards the brain, that when it is said they sometime* com- 
mence in the brain and extend down the nerves, it, at first 
thought, seems irrational ; but when they consider that thej 
cannot explain the fact that an action commences in the or- 
ganic extremities of nerves, and extends towards the brain, 
and that they admit it because there are well known facts that 
cannot be explained without admitting it — because that facts 
seem to prove it ; then they more readily admit that an ac- 
tion may commence in the brain and extend down a nerve. 
And they will admit it, if facts be adduced which appear, to 
ihem, to show that it is so. 

Now the fact, that, on the occurrence of thoughts relative 
to pne's well being, sensations without impressions often fol- 
low, (and follow too so instantly, that we must suppose them 
the immediate consequents of the sensorial actions,) appears 
to prove that conscient actions may commence in the brain 
and run down the nervous prolongations connected with it. 
— It seems to be useless to say any thing to show that the 
sensations or emotions of which we are speaking, are trulr 
subseguent to the thoughts of the head. 



31cJ 

Having shown whfit we mean by (he passions, we now pro« 
geed to offer a [tw words concerning some of their cfft'Cts, on 
the individual in whom they occur. Although some have 
found it easier to deny the existence of a nervous fluid secre- 
ted by the nervous glands, than to prove it, still its existence 
is admitted by most physiologists, and will we think, in time, 
be admitted by all. Those who admit the reality of this se- 
cretion, will not deny that some of the passions increase, and 
others diminish it. By admitting this, and admitting its u-e 
to be what we have supposed, in the chapter on the relation 
between the nervous and muscular systems, tliey can ftad no 
difficulty in showing in what way some of the passions give 
rise to a flushed face, a sparkling eye, a strong nrm. and an in- 
creased secretion of bile ; while others give rise to a pale 
face, a fluttering heart, a trembling knee, a diarrhoea, an in- 
creased secretion of limpid urine, &c. &c.* 

Although we suppose that, in cases of emotion, a nervous 
action extends /"rom the brain ; still we are of the opinion that, 
in all those cases in which there is any paleness of the counte- 
nance, the sensation in the epigastric region is in part owing 
to the pressure of fluids in this quarter. We will not stay to 
advance all the considerations in favor of this opinion, — only 
the few following : When the fluids strike in from the surHice, 
as indicated by pale shrunken features, there must be an unu- 
sual pressure about the heart and lungs — a pressure which in 
some diseases is very great, and undoubtedly gives rise to (he 
oppressive feeling which medical men term anxiety. Second, 
A little ill luck, or bad news is much more apt to produce 
a disagreeable feeling about the epigastrium and breast wlien 
the contracldity of the muscuiar system (including the capil- 
laries of the lungs) is so low that the biood gets through the 

^' See pages 14d, 150, 151. 

40 



314 

lungs with more difficulty than usual ; and, third, a deep in- 
spiralioii, ora vawn,either of which is calculated to faciHlale 
the passage of the blood through the lungs and relieve conges- 
tions of iLe venous blood, relieves for the time that disagreea- 
ble, oppressive feeling which a man experiences when he 
thinks of things which he beheves will (and consequently do, 
at the time) diminish his happiness. 

Although we hold that a passion supposes an action of a 
nerve, we are not prepared to say that some conscient actions 
of the sensorium. alone, are not more agreeable than others — 
some thoughts more agreeable than others ; but to ask, xohij ? 
would be like asking why oxygen is different from hydrogen. 
No expianadon can be given, and no answer can be given, ex- 
cept we say. such is the fact, such is the very nature ofthem ; 
or something like this. Neither could any man tell another 
what is an agreeable thought, if this other never experienced 
one him^e]f. 

It has been a question why one thing pleases us, and another 
displeases us, — why one thing excites such a consciousness 
in us that we call it pleasant, or beautiful, and another thing. 
that we call it unpleasaitt, homely or ugly. Now we suppose 
that in some instaiices this question is a very proper one, as 
something of the why and wherefore may be said of it ^ but 
in other instances it must be considered as a question relative 
to an uUnnate fact ; and when we are satisfied that any thing 
is an ultimate fact, it would be as foolish to ask lohy is it so:^ 
as it would to ask, why is liydrogen su^h sort of substance as 
it is ? We believe that some agents immediateli/ and invaria- 
hly excite agreeable conscient actioas in all nervous systems 
organized alike. If so, it is an ultimate tact, or law, that 
such agents excite such actions in such nervous systems : 
and to distinguish them from other ageuts they may be said to 



315 

be naiurally agreeable, good, pleasant, or beautiful, in relation 
to those beings which possess such nervous systems. 

But there are some things that give rise to agreeable con- 
sciousness in one man, but not another; and in the same man 
at one period of hfe. though not in a former period. In this 
case, the question, n)hy ? is a proper one to be asked, for some 
answer — some explanation can undoubtedly be given : it 
must be owing to circumstances, and to point out these cir- 
cumstances is to explaifj luhy, U a certain piece of dress 
give rise to stich consciousness in me, that I call it handsome, 
and in another man, such consciousness that he call it homely ; 
we must suppose that either in the one case or the other, llie 
agreeable or disagreeable consciousness is not an action nnme- 
diately excited^ but an action suggested by means of the piece 
of dress; for it is probable tliatail men are organized so near 
alike, tfiat what irnmediatelij and of itself excites an agreeable 
consciousness in one does so in all, and may be said to be na^ 
turally agreeable. Perhaps neither the agreeable conscious- 
ness of me nor the disagreeable consciousness of the other 
man, is an action excited by the piece of dre^s, but in both 
cases an action suggested — perhaps men iti general would say 
that the piece ofdre^s is inditferent as to beauty or ugliness. 
It is owing to difference of sensorial tendencies that one thing 
gives rise to an agreeable consciousness in one man and not in 
aijother — that one man calls one thing agreeable which ano- 
ther man calls disagreeable. 

Suppose a man to be, or to have been, in love, as the ex- 
pression is, with a lady who wears, or did wear, a particular 
p'iece of dress ; suppose <hat the man have enjoyed mar y 
agreeable emotions at the same time he saw this piece of 
dress; then the action im riediately excited by seeing this 
piece of dress, has occurred many times in connexion with 
those that constitute the agreeable emotions, aud of course 



3ie 

4h'*re fs prodnced in bis nervous system a tendency to the re* 
CJrrence of these actions in connexion ; hence it follows, 
that when a man sees a like looking piece of dress, be it 
where or upon whom it m^.}, it exciies an action of his ner- 
vous system, which calls up or suggests the agreeable emo- 
tions, and he is led to say this piece of dress looks zvell, altho' 
it is not the immediate cause of (hat wh!( h leads h'\m to say so, 

Jf this piece of dress he not naturally handsome, and an- 
olher man have frequently seen it at the same time he has 
experienced unpleasant emotions, and seen it on!y at such 
times, then it will call up unpleasant emotions iri such man, 
and he will say it is a homely looking thing. Tlie fact (hat 
nauseating drugs taken with spirits create a disgust agairist 
such spirits, is to be explained by referring to the suggesting 
principle. 

As the notions of many concerning love, are rather unsatis- 
facSory, and the notions of some concerning conscience, are 
rather ridiculous, we shall dwell a little on these two pas- 
sio.is, before closing this chapter. And first, of Love. — We 
do not call the venereal appetite the passion of love ; — the 
passion of love is one of the sensorial passions, but the pecu- 
liai 1 >ve of one sex for another, arises from the venereal ap- 
petite. A mail loves what he regards as a cause of happiness 
in him, (and the gratification of any organic passion is so 
murh happiness, though often called pleasure,) and the dif- 
ferent sexes may be a cause of a peruhar happiness in each 
other, on accourU of the venereal appetite ; hence the pecu- 
liar love of a person of the one sex for a person of the other 
sex. But men may love each other, and men may love wo- 
iDen, because they rrgaid them as causes of other happiness 
in them than that which consists in the gratification of an or- 
ganic passion. Such love, to distinguish it from the sexual 
love, may be called social love j and it is the sexual and so* 



S17 

4iial love conrjiiinerl, "that constitute that romponnd affection 
which binds hearts witba nnore lasting cement than the sexual 
love alone ; and wh^ch. when disappointed, render? the per-, 
son more lastnii^iy miserable. Beauty of person, and even of 
dress, favors the passion of love ; for whatever is naturally 
beautiful, imniediaiely and invariably excites agreeable con- 
sciousness in all persons — this consciousness is so much 
happiness, and we love what is tons a cause of happiness. 

The appetitti which causes us to iove a thing, is not the 
love of such thing, — the tirsl is an organic, the last a sensorial 
passion. 

Of Conscitnce. It is an ultimate fact, or law of the ner- 
vous system, that on the occurrence of certain conscient ac- 
tions of the sensorium, certain coriscient actions of the nerves, 
immediately follow. These actions of the nerves, together 
with the actions of the sensorium, constitute, as we have said, 
the sensorial passions, which are often called, not improper- 
ly, emotions. The actions of the nerves alone may be called 
internal, retrogade sensations, ^ — internal^ to distinguish them 
from sensations excited by agents exterior to the body ; retro- 
grade^ to distinguish them from the sensations which consti- 
tute (in pari) the organic passions, which sejisations consist of 
conscient actions that run towards, instead of from, the brain. 

What thoughts or conscient actions of the sensorium are 
thus succeeded by internal, retrograde sensations, we can say 
no more particularly, than that they are thoughts which re- 
late to the happiness or misery of ourselves or other sentient 
being?. All thoughts about future misery, be; this miser) ex- 
pected at what period it may, are of this nature. A man w ho 
meets with a little ill luck, or hears a little news which caus- 
es him to think of, and expect, a diminution of his happiness, 
or an increase of his misery, experiences, especially if he be 
in a weak and exhausted state, aud above ail, if exhausud bj 



318 

'd'ebauch, a disagreeable sensation in the breast and epigastric 
region. If he have been led to do any thing or even think 
about doing any thing which calls up ideas of misery — any 
thing which he has been taught to believe he shall be punish- 
ed for in a future state — the same kind of sensation arises. 
That this sensation is the same in kind as that which arises 
when a man thijiks of the bad conditions he expects to be in, 
to-morrow, next week or next year, no one will doubt, after 
paying so much attention to it as the present writer has done ; 
but if it should be granted that it is not, it would not follovF 
that conscience is not as much a passion as joy. 

The notions entertained, or at least expressed, concerning 
conscience, are whimsical enough : It has been talked about, 
as though it were a ''divine voice" (if any one can tell what 
this is) either slipped into us about the time we were begotten, 
or else coming directly lo us from heaven just before, at the 
time, or soon after we do any thing which the book of nature, 
or a paper book has taught us to believe we ought not to do. 
And the "dictates of conscience*' [conscience itself] have 
been talked of as though they were " the strivings of the Holy 
Spirit ;" but by the by it is a spirit which, in nine cases out of 
ten, a glass of grog will banish fr-om one's stomach, until the 
stimulating effects of the grog are over, but which will then 
return, more troublesome than before, if the system be not, 
in the mean time, recruited by rest and nourishing food. 

We do not maintain that the passion conscience, is no sign 
that the person in whom it occurs is not a person of principle, as 
the expression is, but the reverse, — it is the most sure sit^n he 
can have that he is a man of principle — it is certain evidence. 
But it is not the least shadow of evidence that his principles 
are true. It is evidence only that he believes them lo be true, 
which belief is what constitutes him a man of principle.* — 

* We have here used ihe word principle in a loose aud faniiiiar 



319 

©nly make a child believe it wicked to whistle, that it displeas- 
es God, and that he will siifFer eternal, never-ending^ torments 
in an unquenchable hell fire, for whistling ; such child, should 
he chance to whistle, would experience the same compunc- 
tious feelings that many good boys now do, when in a moment 
of excitement they incautiously swear, or take the Lord's name 
in vain. Yet for all this, it might be as innocent to whistle, in 
the views of the Almighty, as every body now supposes itto be. 

The law of conscience is, that it arise whenever a man con- 
templates an act of his which he belie ^'es is wrung. We 
think, hovyever that it is more intense and partakes of the 
nature of fear in case the man believe he shall suffer for do- 
ing such act. Be this as it may, the existence of conscience 
in any man, on a certain occasion, depends on what the man 
has been made to believe, be it truth or falsehood. And as a 
man's belief, opinions, views, sentiments, or whatever you 
please to call them, may undergo changes, we see v/hy it is 
that a m.an may do an act at one period of his life, without 
such compunclious feelings as arose at a former period, on 
doing the same act. We see, too, why men of different na- 
tions, and different men of the same nation, do not feel re- 
morse alike, on doing the same deeds, though ihey may be 
men of a similar weak and nervous constitution. 

Nevertheless, it is freely admitted, that what seems wrong 
to one, would, if known, very generally be pronounced wrong 
by all men. Tliis however is very easily accounted for. It 

sense — in that sense in u-hicli it is used when it is said that a man 
who believes such religious dortrines as are generally believed^ 
and believes in the fitness and utility of such rules ot conduct as 
are generally believed right and useful, is a man ot principle But 
strictly speaking, every man is a man of principle, who holds to 
any rule of conduct, or believes any thmg concerning theological 
subjects : to be without principle, is to be opinion-neuter as to all 
moral and religious creeds. 



320 ' 

is because nature h^? taught men what they ought to do to- 
wards each other ; aad nature is a universal school-mistress^ 
teaching all men the same le«5son. 

A man need not resort to any paper book, to learn that he 
does not want his person or pioperty injured, nor to leara 
that his fellow beings are much like himself; neither does 
he stand in need of any philosophical speculations to con- 
vince him that his ft;l!ow beings do not want to be injured in 
person or property. Nature teaches him this, and this is as 
much (we believe the same,) as to teach him that it is wrong 
to injure his fellow beings. If he do injure them, a sense of 
disapprobation arises ; and if he believe he shall suffer for so 
doing, this sense of disapprobation partakes somewhat of the 
nature of fear, and is called conscience, or the " dictates of 
conscience," if the man believe his suffering will be in a fu- 
ture world. 

It is an object of moral philosophy to point out the conse- 
quences of such and such courses of conduct, which conse- 
quences are so remote as not to be readily seen by every 
one. — As soon as ar.y man is convinced that any deed, or 
any course of conduct, is productive of more human misery 
than happiness, he is convinced that it is wrong. And we 
believe that to be convinced of the one, is precisely the same 
thing as to be convinced of the other. When we say a thing 
is wrong, what are our ideas of this wrong, except such as con- 
stitute a conviction that the thing, be it a disposition, design, 
deed, or course of conduct, is immediately or remotely pro- 
ductive of more human misery than happiness ? 

As to regarding conscience, or what is the same thing, the 
" dictates of conscience," as any principle^ or the operation 
of any principle, within us, except the mere/'i'c/ that on the 
occurrence of certain sensorial actions, certain internal, re- 
trogade sensations arise ; we should as soon think of regard- 



3§1 

mg the pain which arises when a barefooted boy strikes his 
toe against a stone, as the '' voice of a Divinity within him," 
warning him not to strike his naked toes against a stone 
again ! — But the world is full of strange notions, and the more 
absurd and mysterious they are, the more obstinately do the 
ignorant adhere to them. — Conscience is one of the passions 
which, like all other passions, influences our conduct. It 
arises when we think of deeds whicli we have doue, just as 
sorrow arises when we think of losses we iiave sustained. 



■00- 



CHAPTER XXIIL 

On Rttigion, 

The word religion, is used in quite d fferent senses, Ac- 
cording to one very common use of the word, religion is an 
affection of the human system. In this sense of the word, it 
belongs to the physiologist, or, if you please, metaphysicmn, 
to examine into the nature and causes of religion ; asjd it is 
the more necessary that he do so, because most persons, even 
in this enlightened age, appear to be mtich in the dark con- 
cerning this matter. Indeed, the liotions thai havt been ex- 
pressed concerning it, are such as to excite emotions in every 
well informed man. h has been sa?d that religion is caused 
by, or consists in, (we scarcely know wiiich to say,) being 
born again of water and the Spirit, — an ex'pression so very 
ambiguous, that if any one totally unacquainted with all reii- 
igious notions, should ask i{ i\\]^ being born again of wattr and 
the. Spiril, consists ni being brought lo life wiih rum a!*d 
water, we shoaM nc^tthirik it stninge. AgJiti. «t has been 

said, that no man has religion until he iiavc c\peneiiccd a 

41 



S22 

change of heart ; hv which it is not meant, however, thi\^ he 
riiust have his thorax opened and hi^ siaiwrii} or cojjgtMntal 
heart taken out, and a new one put in it^ pla<e. At oiht-r 
t»me«, religion wa? spo!.:en of as tho'},;h it were canned !>v. or 
consisted in^ certain operations of the Holy Guost or the Spi' 
Hi of I he Lord. 

But to speak truly and inten^gibly, the religion ofuh-cji 
We are treatiiig — often called the religion of the heart — is no- 
thing more nor less than a sensoi-.a! [)assion ; that is, <'on- 
sciei»t actions of nerves preceded by co iscient actions of (he 
sensoruirn as a rause. A share of the consCienl actions ol the 
gcnsoiium ^\hich give rise to these actions of the nerves, are 
sui.h as constitute thoughts concerning religious doctrines, 
occurring in such order — so (rti^e tmm iihternrxture ofo[)po- 
sinc; or contradictory tiioughts — as to con-tilutc a belief that 
S'j( h religious doctrines are true. ticnce we see that a be- 
liej'in religi<i)s doctrines is essential io. and inoeed consti- 
tutes a part of, the relig'on of which we are speaking. 

Having shown what inward rehgioii is, we pix)ceed to treat 
of its causes arul efllcts. 

Maiikind are iiow too much enlightened to mistake mysti- 
fication for explanation, or attribute eliects to .^uj rrnatural 
causes, when riatural causes, amply •uthc ent to account ior 
thfm, may be pointed out. Sometlung I'ke a thousand y^rs 
ago. of course during the dark age, it is said — however in- 
credible it may a{)peartomen of this enlighteiicd age— that 
men attributed llieir inward religion to special operations of 
tli<' Holy Ghost upon the heart! and some, if history be true, 
even virtually a^scrted that this Being — often spoken of as 
though he were nothing less than the Creator of the universe 
—entered the human system and dwelt for a time at least, all 
about in or between the ihoraric and abdominal viscera, — 
and that religious tmoiioiis were caused by tins a^ent. Jfao 



328 

*^ awakeninir"' or *' reviviT' took p'aco, fhe«?e men offhei^ark 
aiie tisej] to jttribtite it to " outpourings of ihe S^ i.':i," au'l 
teii of the Lord paviriij; them ,\ special visit. B«it these no- 
tions now re'ruiri m history as inonuments ofanceut ;s;no- 
raJir.e, asitl uw<i are Jeft fj'ee, so far as it respects Ipgril pu i- 
is'irneut'J, to «^e sr''h out tiie true carises of all known eveu's. 
C )!tseq>en!iv thev h sve found ihat inward rehgioa is effe^la- 
ateti in ihe foilowiug manner. 

Chihiren are presented with books which teach them that 
th?" first man and woman ate an apple or •^ome su*^h thing, ia 
conspq sence of which the whole humas) lace are total!} de- 
praved, and d(';-?erve not only to earn thcThread by the sweat 
of their i)row, to endure much m'^-ery in ih;s life, and (he 
pains of dyiiig, but to he eternally wretched after the} are 
dead ! That Ihe antlior of nature, in his uifi nle goodness and 
mere}, caused a ch Id to be brought fbith by a woman who 
had not known her husbaiid — a child who, by Jhe by, was as 
Old as his. Father. That this child havir.g become a mm, 
was by men unjustly executed ; but came to hfe again, thi-ee 
days after, and ascended up into hea\en, (for heaven is above 
us, if) the day tnne.) That Oii account of the>e things man- 
kind wil! not be eter .ally miserable after they die. merel} be- 
cause of the apple aifor; buL still, on account of this, their 
natures are so very corrupt, that is. they have su*^\\ sirong 
p issmns or propens ties fordoing those things which they 
ought not to do, and are so hltle dispo-^ed to do the things 
which they ought to do, that they cannot or <lo not (it 
makes no odds which you say) refrain from doing many ev»l 
deeds, for doing even one of which they deserve to be etc r- 
ntliy damned, and indeed will be ; unless, before (hey die 
they are sorry for doing such deeds ; and furthermore, pro- 
fe^"> to b< live such things as we are now stating, and many oth- 
ers equdiiy ruiiuual^ lo i>e true. But d they are thus sorry, 



and thus profess, instead of being eternally wretched, they 
will be eternally and most exquisitely happy. 

After nnore pains are taken to make children, and young 
persons (who have not yet sufhcieiit knowledge to reason cor- 
rectly) believe the things, than would be necessary to cause 
them to believe the most romantic story that ever found its 
way into books ; many of them do believe them in rather a 
low degree. And they think that after accomplishing cer- 
tain worldly objects, and indulging a little more in those 
things for which they have a wicked (but natural) propensity, 
they must attend to the repenting part. 

While they are in this stale striving perhaps to render their 
f ilow beings more happy, of whatever sect or denomination 
they may be, they meet with one or more persons who under- 
take to convert their mere cold belief in religious doctrines — 
which is at best little better than mere morality—into real ef- 
ective religion, a religion that will move the tongue. For this 
purpose a consciousness a little lower down than the brain, 
must be rxcited, — there must be an emotion, hi effecting this, 
sosne are more skilled than others. The means by which 
they operate, are various, depe/iding sojncwhat on circum- 
stances. For the most part, ibey are well calculated to eC- 
feci the object in view, though not uniformly successful. If 
they think ihtir subjects are not properly prepared for a real 
getter-up of revivals, that is, their belief in the religious doc- 
trines is not of a sufficiently high degree, their fir?t object is, 
though a little out of (heir favorite line of business — to in- 
crease such belief. This being done, they aiui to impress 
their subjects with the imminent danger they are in of ^'losing 
their souls," and being eternally wretched in hell tire (a ter- 
rible place for an unextended tlnng) Vvhere there will be 
weeping and wiiiling and gnashinf; o t^eth — among the devils, 
■7)robabl^,for the soul has no iceth, Tut-y tell Ihem that ihej 



325 

know not but that (hey will be called io the bar of God tJu£ 
very nighi — and perhaps give a history of some poor feilow 
repenting with all speed, but could not possibly get through 
before the angel of death (what's that ?) flew away with the 
only thing he had to repent with — adding, that if this repeiit- 
ing apparatus should contiiiue its operations on its way thuher, 
or after it arrived at its journey's end, it will avail nolhnig : it 
must all be done while it is in the braifi, or it is of no use. — 
They tell them that noro is the time, the accepted tune, and 
if they do not repent now^ and turn to God, he may turn a 
deaf ear to ail their cries, as soon as to-morrow : fur lie has 
long been knocking ai the '* door of their hearts /" and they 
would not open nato him. 

By such sort of sentiments as these, delivered in a solemn 
and itnpressive manner, aided by the rhignig of bells, by sing- 
ing, by instrumental music, and such other means as are calcu- 
lated to arouse the nervous system, every one who firmly be- 
lieves that the impenitent wicked will be forever wretched in 
a future state, and believes tjimself to be Oiie of such wicked, 
has his feelings wrought U|)on. [le is sorry and fearful for 
the corruption of his nature, and the many wicked deeds he 
1) is done 5 and the more of these, thr^ more sorry \^ he. It is 
now that con^cient actions of his nerves arise ;-— it is now lliat 
he repents •, — it is now that he is in the sorrowing stage of re- 
ligion. After remainitig ir) (liis stage for a longer or shorter 
time — in acute ca^es, not ovtr a few days — he is told, or per- 
haps it occurs to him, that tie is already repentirig, or has re- 
pented ; and, of course, There is not only a pros[)ect of his 
escaping the eternal wrath of an angry God^ bui of his enjoy- 
ing eternal felicity — yes, eternal felictti/. Oil! \\hat~a pleas- 
ii.g thought ; — he now begins to feel better ; — his thouglits 
are dilFerent ; and of course, the disagreeable feelings ot ins 
breast are gone. Jddt,cd, if he be very ausctptibie of vivid 



326 

emotions, (as the yo'in^, feeble, nnd eflem'nfil-e sre the mo?t 
likely to be,) and be surrouiided by new fnend.-. to who^e 
doctrines he has bef ome a convert, and wjio saluie him with 
all the fervent aiieciion of brolht^r^ aid feilow laborer?; in 
one gioriou* c uise, he is wot :\ mnve ihinkiug mAW, bnt a joy- 
fi}i man. []\< breast is alive wifb a new passioij ; — be is not 
now the repenting child of ^orro%v, — the sta^^e of op|He>-*ion 
has passed off, — he is one of ihe most happy oeings on eartji ; 
he tastes of paradise below. He has made his peace wfth 
God, and professes rehgiou. (another thing to be glad of,) 
he thinks tluit no one srho has no? experienced fhe like, 
can know his joys. He thinks that iiolhing false or r.ar!!)!y 
could give him such bhss ; and would that ail would repeM,t 
of their sins, and be a brother of his, on the Lord's side. He 
is enthusiastic ; and ifyou express any doubts as to the tJ urh 
of the doctrines whicli he so tirmly believes, and is .>o bap^.y 
in believing, since he has been led to believe that he sliaii be 
infinitely happy, he pitses vou ; — or if }ou go so far as lo ad- 
vance arguments which bear hard again^-t^ such doctrines, 
may be offended at you, and even secretly endeavor to in- 
jure you in your lawful occupations. He is not now equally 
kind and ctiaritable to persons of all denominatior)s ; for 
lie has taken sities in a cause, in promoting which he 
believes (for so he has been taught.) he is doing God's 
service ; and in which he may have a wordly interest, aiid, 
bemg still human, ii pride in promotif.g. Consequently those 
who are of his sect are to be encouraged, aiid those who are 
not, put down. 

Now it is this chano;e in one's thoughts and feelings con- 
cernng religious matters, that constitutes what is !?ometnrtes 
called a '* new birth," gometimes " gettifig religion^'''' and at 
others, " a change of heart." 

U IS vveh kiiOWii to cvcFj oue at all atquaialed wi.h the 



anim^! e^'^nomv, that the expression, chan^p of heart, as u?ed 
bv reii-^!oriisis, is as figiiraJive. though nol qu;te so amoigij- 
o-is. MS the expressiovi, bom again ofwiler aid the S/nrit.— 
T'ii' hearL is a thick (n:iseiilar organ, situated in the chest, 
an i co.itaiiiin^ four apartmeiits. Its function is to assist in 
circu!atii>; ihe hlood, by which it is excited to act. It pos- 
se^j-cs a much lower degree of -eiisibdity than the skiu, and 
is nt^ver the seat of any feehng except il be in a diseased 
s'ate. Ih action is ofte i accelerated during the passions, 
probably in the manner we have explained in the course of 
this work ; but it has no more to do with a man's thoughts 
and feelings than his lusigs ; and we have no more reason to 
su{)pos^ it is ever the seat or habitation of any good or evil 
spirit, than we have to believe there are such beings in exist- 
ence as witches. It is less liable to change than almost any 
Qiher important organ, and everv change of it is a disea>e, re- 
quiring medicine. Bit the heart is in the neighborhood of 
tho!^e nerves which take on consc.eiit actions diiringthe sen- 
sorial passions, and as it is often infl.ience<l by these passioi^^, 
it IS not strange that the ancients regarded it as the seat of 
some of ihem, as well as of good and evil spirits, — a mistake 
wliich gave rise to language that is still in use with those who 
prefer ainb'gnous to plain matter-of-fact language. 

There are some who seem to regard their religious joy 
not only as the effect of some supernatural agency, but even 
as evidence of the divine oiigin of the religious doctrines 
which the} believe ; but these we think are mistaken notions. 
Indeed, if every person who firmly believes the doctrines of 
the christian religion, who has repented of his sins, and made 
a profess. on, should nol be as happy as any person ever was, 
it would be something so unnatural that no philosopher could 
account for it. What ! a man believe that he is a sure can- 
didate for eternal and consummate happinefSj and not be 



328 

transported almost fo mndness. All the happiness of the old- 
est man that ever lived is as nothing compared ^ith such a 
sum of happiness a«; this ; yei how oflen do we see men al- 
most frantic with joy on meeting with a httle good lack, which 
thej know can be a cause ofhappinesss to them, but a few 
short and uncertain years ? Surely, if there be any mystery 
concerning the religious joy of penitent and professed believ- 
ers of the doctrines of the christian religion, it is because 
they are not much more happy than they are. We should 
think they would sink into perfect apathy as to the things of 
this world, and anxiously await the hour of death. We can- 
not account for their love of life, and their sorrow^ under 
wordiy misfortunes, but by supposing that their belief in fu- 
ture bliss is not of the highest degree. 

As to religious joy being any evidence of the truth or divine 
origin of Christianity, it certainly is not. if a poor man should 
purchase a ticket, and afterwards be informed that it has 
drawn 20,000 dollars, in such a manner that he would firmly 
belieTc it, his joy would be just as much evidence that he has 
drawn this sum, as religious joy is, that the religious doctrines 
are true, or of divine origin. In neither case is the joy any 
evidence of any thing, more or less, than that the m^nbelieves 
— no evidence at all that what he believes is true. If the 
poor man firmly believe that he has drawn 20,000 dollars, his 
joy is the same whether in reality he have or have not. 

Neither is the fact that learned men of well organized 
brains, believe in the christian religion, the least shadow^ of 
evidence of its truth or divine origin. — We are no novel read- 
ers, but we presume there is no fiction extant but w^hat would 
be believed by as many enlightened men as beheve in the 
christian religion, had it been published in the same age of 
the v/orld, and as many millions of treasure, and the labor of 
as many millions of educated men been expended in its cause. 



■329 

as have been expended in the cause of Christianity, since its 
first introduction into the world. 

One grand reason why so many believe in the christian re- 
ligion, is this ; They are not only taught to believe it, hefore 
they are old enough to reason, but they are at this tender age 
deeply impressed with the idea that thej ought to believe it, 
and thai they will be eternally wretched afier they die if they 
do not believe it : consequently they think that they are not 
Only juslitiable, but even praiseworthy, in reading^every thing 
that has been written in favor of it, and rejecting, without 
reading, every thing that has been written against it. And 
this delusion is not a little encouraged in rnaturer years by 
those influential persons who have a pecuniary interest in the 
cause of religion. 0,)ly let all persons come to the &ge of 
reason before they are made acquainted with any religious 
notions more than what they draw from the book of nature ; 
afterwards present them with the brble, together with all that 
has been or can be written, both for and against it ; and let 
as many persons, under equally favorable circumstances, be 
employed to convince them that Christianity is not divine, 
and the general scheme of it not true, as there are to con- 
vince them to the contrary ; then might the preponderance 
of either party be considered as some small evidence in fa- 
vor of its principles. ^ 

But when we consider how much time and treasure, as 
well as blood, have been expended in the cause of Christiani- 
ty ; the smallness ot the proportion ofmanknid which truly 
believe in it, seems to argue much against its truth and d!vni° 
ity. Only about one fifth of the human family are caiicd 
christians, and as much as one half of this one tifth are not 
believers in christiaiiity ; and not more than one of a rh'U- 
sand that do believe in i<, ever as fully exa turned what has 

beea written against it, as what has been written in defence 

42 



339 

of it ; and nine fepths of the one ten thousandth part of the 
h'lman Timily who have thus examined, had some selfish mo- 
tives in maintaining it. Finafly, we think it would be diffi- 
cult to produce a single isis^ance of a per^son believing in the 
christian religion, who examined into its negative Side, before 
he were deeply impressed with the idea that it is true and sa- 
cred. — Where are our deistical schools and colleges, openly 
and professedly such ? where our deistical presses ? where 
our deistical teachers, all over the country, calling the people 
together every seventh day, or of'ener, to impress them with 
their doctrines ? Where the numberless deistical books, 
tracts, and weekly papers, thickly scattered abroad, so as to 
be in every man's house ? They are not to be found. Oidy 
let deism and Christianity be on an equal footing as to all these 
things, and then see which is most easily maintained amot^g 
the multitude. — Let a century pass away, and again see if 
the number of enlightened < hrist ans so exceeds the number 
of enlightened deists, that any one would think of regarding it 
as any evidence of the divine origin of Christianity. 

If we represent by one, the means that have been opera- 
ting in the cause of deism in the United Slates since the land- 
ing of our fore-tathers at Piymnulh ; the means thai have 
operated m the cau.-e of christianit) in these states since that 
time, may be represented by 100.000. Yet it is probable that 
the number of intelligf^nt Hiid contirmed deists at present in 
the Un?kd States, is, to the number of enlightened and con- 
firmed christians, a( least, as one to ten. Accordingly, a cer- 
tain amount of effort in tlje cause of deism has given rise to 
10.000 true and enlighteaed deists; wheicasan equal amount 
of effort, in the cause of chnstiamty, has given rise to only 
one such christian.* 

* In speakinyr of enli jlUftied chistiH'is us in the tf\t. we d<» not 
mtau 10 be uuderstoou tlicil tliey are eiili^lueiiea iu rei>pecl to the 



331 

Surely, we need not suppose that Christianity has the least 
divinity about it, or that those who believe in it are weak- 
headed, to account for its success. — There is no doctrine un* 
der heaven, false or true, but what would be as widely diflfus- 
ed and as long maintained, if it had been introduced eighteen 
hundred years ago, and as much effort been made in its be- 
half, as has been made in the cause of Christianity foreighteeo 
hundred years past. 

We have now treated of the nature and causes of the" re- 
ligion ofihe heart, ■" — more properly, the religioii of the ner- 
vous system. In doing this, we have laid down what we con- 
sider the general scheme of the christian religion, in plain 
E'jglish.t But no friend of uuth will censure us for this ; for 
whatever is not true ought not to be believed, and whatever 
is true, so far from s^utfering by being stated in plain, matter- 
of-fact language, will even stand the test of argument. — All 
doctrines in which the unlearned as well as learned, have a 
deep interest, ought, as much as possible, to be stripped of all 
figurative and ambiguous expressions, and exhibited in their 
true colours. Error is an ei! whi( h is sometimes suffered 
to exist among the multitude, merely because it is dressed up 
in such a style that they cannot .<t e it. Furthermore, all im- 
portant doctrines ought to be most scrupulously tested by- 
reason, for this is the only way in which we can det(Tmine 
what is true and what is false, exreptirig those cases in which 

religion which they profess ; lor most of them hnve not eAamintcl 
into its negative side ; and no man can be said to be eidijihiefied 
coficerning any ques'ion until he be Hcquainied Willi what can be 
said b 'th for and against it. 

t There is so much dispute and contention in the world about, 
n^hat IS christiantfij 7 thai we do not fnesume to decide what ir is ; 
but we think ive have sketched the outline of what the luoal pitva* 
lent sect of rehgioniais iu christeuduui Gull chrisii unity. 



332 

We can have the evidence of our senses. — If anv body know 
of any other way, we wis^h he would point it out. 

I do not presujne to say for a certainty, but that the origi-. 
nal organization of my brain is such, and such the impres- 
sions that have been made upon my seiises, that my sentiments 
concerning all religioDS, pretending to divine origin, are quite 
erroneous. I ao not use the expression I know, to express 
any of my convictions that are the result of a long and com-, 
plicated judging process. In all these cases I can, with pro- 
priety, only say 7 believe ; for every conviction which is the 
result of a judging process, depends on the facts which we 
think over; and «o man can ever be certain that he knows— 
or in a judging process concerning any question, thinks over — • 
all the facts that relate to the question. Because a man sees 
as far as he can see, it would be presumption in him to say 
that no one sees any farther, or that there is nothing to be 
seen beyond what he sees. 

I will further remark, that 1 consider every man's belief — 
be what it mny — as the necessary result ofcertam causes ; 
and I s^hoiild about as soon think of condemning a man for 
being born with only one arm, as for be'ievnig whatever he 
does believe, or foriiot believing as i believe. 



■00- 



CHAPTER XXiV. 

On Phenomena, referred to Instinct, 

The organic passions ofien lead animals, especially young 
onf^s, to perform many actions hef )re they have learnt, by ex- 
perience or otherwise, win t .er what they do will be to their 
good, ill the eud, or mji, ^\i\. it go happens that the Great 



333 

Designer has caused them to be so organized that they are 
seldom pushed on by these passions to do any thing which is 
not subservient to their own individual good, or to the propa- 
gation and well being of their species. It is on this account 
that these instinctive actions, as tiiej are called, have greatly 
puzzled philosophers, and led them to conjure up many 
strange notiuns concerning them. 

One [Des Carte.-] is led to maintain that brutes possess no 
peculiar or physiological properties, but are mere mechanical 
(not physiologically organized) machiiies ; and of course are 
never the subjects of sensation or a thought, however much 
tht^y may appear to enjoy pleasure and endure pain. Ac- 
cording to this doctrine, all instinctive actions must be mere- 
ly mechanical, and the young mammalian is drawn to the 
breast of its mother, 1 suppose, by the scent of the udder, a 
scent however that is not smelt hy the young animal. An- 
other [Darwin] maintains that it thinks over a train of 
thoughts relative to the subject, and comes to the conclusioni 
that it will be well tor him lo lay hold of its mother's teats 
and suck a little. A third [Cudworth] holds that '' an active 
and plastic nature !" exists throughout the world independent 
of'' pure mind" or pure matter, and that matter is solely ren- 
dered visible and endowed with manifest properties by a un- 
ion with this plastic nature. Such one conceive* "that all 
instinctive powers migtit be resolved into the operation of this 
plastic nature."'^ 

What a power is, that it may be " resolved into an opera- 
tion,''^ we leave for close thinkers to determine ; but if this 
" plastic nature" be that vihich renders pure matter visible, 
and be also the cause of instinctive actions, we would ask, 
(since Good has suggested the iden,) why all visible mat'er, 

*bee " (juod's Buukui iSaiure/' Vul. 1, p. 5^-7, iio&lou «iUit. 18^6. 



334 

Cfnorofqrized as wel! as organized, does not, now and then at 
lea«t, exhibit irjstmctive phenomena. 

A foiirth [Cuvier] asserts that '' the understanding may 
hnve ide is without the aid of the senses ; two thirds of the 
brute creation are moved by ideas which they do not owe to 
their sensations, but which flow immediately from tiieir brain. 
1 sti;)ct constitutes this order of phenomena : it is composed 
o^ideas truly itiiiate, in which the fcenses have never had the 
g!T);. I'est share." 

V/hat the understanding is, and where it comes from — 
what iouiite ideas it possesses — how it holds them, or where 
t!i? V are parked away — what ideas are, that they may Jlozo 
immedialet) fjom the brain — what sort of itjstinct it is that is 
composed of innate ideas, at the same time it constitutes an or- 
der of |)henomefia — how the ideas of the understanding flow- 
ing immediately from the brain^ can move two thirds of the 
brute creation, and not the other third, are questions which 
tlje materialist feels himself under no obligations to answer — 
he fonsiders the whole talk perfect nonsense. 

The learned Dr. Good appears not to have been satisfied 
with either of tie above doctrines concerning instinctive ac- 
^'ons; a.d by regarding many phenomena as instinctive, 
, wliH h the above mentioned authors did not regard as such, 
he finds nod ffictilly in making it appear that they cannot all 
be accounted forufion the principles of either. Accordingly 
he begs the candid attention ofihe audience to which he is 
delivering a lecture, wiiile he presents lo them a new view of 
the subject. 

Tiiat he may not build upon sand, but have his speculations 
based upon a rock, sure and steadfast, he first proceeds to 
psove the existence of a " principle oflife,^"^ This he does by 
showing that there are essential difTerences between organi- 
sed and uuor^aiiized beii^g^ 5 which diiFereiices must, qf 



335' 

eoftrsfi, he owing to the siipeiaddition of a princ'ple r^fT,fe f© 
the former. He sa3s he does not know exactly what Ih.g 
principle of hfe is, — that s> m " have thought it caloric, >onr)e 
oxygen, and some electricity ; but he its nature what it m;>r 
it is a '' controlhng and identifying power" to be traceJ " <fi 
every orgai^ized system, whetht r animal or vegetable, and in 
every pari of such system, whether solid or fliiid." He novv 
tells us {'' B>ok of Nature," vol. 1, p. 38 i,) that '' the agency 
by which it [pnncipie of lift] operates is that which we de« 
nominate or should deiiominate instincf" — ''or to s' cak 
somevvhat m -re precisely, instinct is the operation of the liv- 
ing principle, whenever manifestly directing ils operatioiis lo 
Wm health, [)reservation, or reproduction of a living fram( , or 
any part of such frame." At page 388, the same book, he 
says, "• instinct may be d< tined the openition of the principle 
oforganized life by the exercise of certain natura powers di- 
rected to the present or future good of the individual." 

Now it appears to ns that the Doctor has thrown no light 
at all upon those phenomena of orgyjjized beings called in- 
stinctive. Had he shown us satl^iaclolli) what instinct isg 
this would ijot be to explain the phenomena called instinc- 
tive. — To make it appear that sonu. unknown thing exislSj, 
and to give it a name, is not to explain those phenomena that 
are rejerrtd to this unknown thmg ; but the Doctor has not 
even shown us, satisfactorily, what instinct is. His prnmple 
of life is a hrain-begotteu tiling, leaving no being in rebi tj ; 
and the" certaiii natural powers" by which it operates (aa 
be nothing besides the principle iiself, aiid the same rna^ i^e 
said of its operation ; yet the sum and substance of whal he 
has told us about inslmct, is, that ii is (his '' operation." 

We grant that under the pre^ent state of our knowie«ige, it 
may be ditficult to give a satisfactory expianain.n oi msluic- 
tive actious j but this is sure : he that says organued being® 



336 

act as they do, under the circumstances Ihey are placed, be- 
cause they are organized as they are, gives as complete an 
explanation ofal) their action*, as he that refers these actions 
to unknown entities. What is the difference, so far as it re- 
spects the mere explanation of an action, whether we say it 
is an action of an organ which is organized so as to act thus, 
under the circumstances of the case ; or whether we say it is 
an action of an organ which is enabled to act thus, by the su- 
pernddition of an immaterial principle ? Or, what is the dit"- 
fere.ice, whether we say the conscient phenomena of animals 
are action's of organs, or say they are actions of a soul, a life, 
a will, an instinct, &c. Sic, ? To be sure, in the one case 
we refp?^ these phenomena or actions to real beings, of which 
a man ma\ have some idea, in the other case, to brain-begot- 
ten nonentities, of which a man can have no idea ; but so far 
as it respects any €a;;?/arzauWi of these phenomena, there is no 
difference except in sound : only give these organs the names 
of soul, will, life, instict, &:c. and there would not be even this 
difference. 

Altho' we do not profess to be able to give a complete and 
satisfactory explanation of instinctive phenomena; still we 
cannot close this chapter without offering a few more senti- 
ments concerning them, than we have in the fore part of it. 

We suppose that (he organic passions, which, by the by, may 
be called appetites, desires, longings, hankerings, and perhaps 
we may add, propensities, are the springs that give rise to in- 
stinctive actions. This being grunted, the fo: lowing questions 
arise. First. Why do animals ignorant of consequences, s© 
seldom do any thmg which is not subservient to their well be- 
ing ? Second. As anorganic passioii is not a muscular action, 
but a cause, more or less remote, oi muscular actions ; what 
events take place in the system between therse of an organic 
passion and the muscular coutractiOiis that must and do take 



3S7 

place in gratifjingsucb passion; or in other words, in what 
way do the organic passions give rise to muscular actions ? 

In answer to the first question, we say that animals are so or- 
ganized that they have no natural appetites or propensities to 
do any thing which is not for theirgood ; and not being led to 
do any thing because they judge it will be to theirgood, (as 
they often are after acquiring many sensorial tendencies, and 
hence often do wrong, for they often judge erroneously,) they 
seldom do any thing which is not to their good. 

The second question is the most difficult to answer ; but in 
our attempts to answer it, we may derive some aid from the 
facts, if facts they be, pointed out in the chapter on volition. 

Those organic passions which give rise to instinctive actions 
we will, for the present, call hankerings for something — not 
hankerings for any particular thing which the young animal 
has any idea of before he have seen it — but a hankering for 
something, or if you please, a hankering. The young duck 
hatched by a hen has a hankering for something, and the new- 
born calf has a hankering for something; but suppose them 
both at the side of a pond, the one with its foster-mother the 
hen, the other with its natural mother a cow ; the hankering of 
the duck will cause it to rush into the water, while the han- 
kering of the calf will cause it to lay hold of the cow's teats 
and suck. Now why this difference ? Why does not the calf 
rush into the water, and the duck attempt to suck the cow? 
We cannot say the duck's hankering is a desire to go into the 
water, and that this is the reason it goes into the water; for a 
desire to go into the water supposes an idea of water, but by 
supposition, the duck has no idea of water. We believe it 
is an ultimate fact that whatever will gratify an inward long- 
ing of a young animal, looks good as soon as he sees it, feels 
good as soon as he feels it, and. tastes good as soon he tastes 

it, without having previously learned that it will promote 

43 



338 

its health or mal^e it grow; and that the duck goes into the 
water because its organic passions are such that the water 
looks good, or seems desirable ; and that the calf lays hold of 
the cow's teats for similar reasons. 

But an animal to have a hankering, and to see Something 
before, is not to lay hold of such thing — to lay hold supposes 
motions, supposes muscular contractions, supposes motive ac- 
tions of the nervous system : now what governs, as we may 
say, these motive actions ? Are they immediately antecedenled 
or caused by the <"onscient actions that constitute the hanker- 
ings ? or are they immediately anlecedented by the actions 
excited by the things that appear good, desirable or inviting? 
or do they set in, on the co-exi.«tence of both these s-ensations? 
The duck m«y have its hankering for something, but seeing 
no water may stay by the side of its tnother the hen, which 
never goes into the water ; and again, the duck having been 
in the water sufTers such a change in its system, that for the 
time benig, has no such hankering, but a desire to return to 
its mother on the land, and so goes to its mother, and does 
not immediately go into the water again, although it still sees 
the water. Such being the facts, it would appear that in the 
case of the duck, the hankering and the goodly looking thing. 
have each a share in giving rise to its movements. 

But it may be said that migrating birds and fish steer off 
certain courses to certain places which they never saw ; and 
this too perhaps without being guided by any that have seen 
such places ; and to such birds and fish these places do not 
look desirable or pleasant ; for they neither see them nor 
have an idea of them. Now what causes these birds and fish 
to steer off these courses as they do ? We suppose it is the 
mere pleasure,--the mere feeling of fitness or right which 
they experience in doing so; and we suppose if they turn out 
of these courses, they do not feel weh, do not feel right. — 



339 

suppose that a young duck hatched by a hen, on a dry plain, 
would steer otFsome straij^ht course until it came to water, if 
its orgnnic passions were such that it would experience a plea- 
surable and proper feeling merely in doing so. 

We supj)ose that migrating birds and fish steer off to oth- 
er regions at certain tunes o' year, because at such times o' 
year such changes take place in their inward teeiings, and in 
the weather, that they feel better in doing so, than in staying 
where they are. Young animals act from the feelings of the 
moment, and not from any long-headed calculations about fu- 
ture consequences ; and they do that which is right because 
there is nothing to cause them to do otherwise, and there are 
no effects without causes. 

Men may draw some confirmation of what we have said 
concerning instinctive phenomena, by considering what they 
experience in themselves. We have supposed that instinctive 
actions are such as the organic passions lead animals to per- 
form without knowing, and consequently without thinking 
about or regarding, the consequences of such actions ; now do 
not organic passions often lead men to perform actions, not be- 
cause they expect any future good to arise from performing 
them, but because of the pleasure they experience in perform- 
ing them ? Do they not oflen act without paying any regard to 
or even thinking about future consequences, and even in some 
cases in which they believe the future consequences will be bad, 
rather than good ? Think of the venereal appetite. In ninety- 
nine cases of a Inindred, we consider these movements as strictly 
instinctive, and not performed because, by a chain of reasoning, 
the man or woman has come to a conclusion that it will be to 
his or her future well being. Nature spurs them on as she 
does the young mammalian to suck. 

Again. Does not a man know that a lady looks peculiarly 
good, desirable, or inviting, on account of a peculiar organic 



340 

passion of hb ? and does he not know that when this passion is 
gratified, hi* mere sexual love is abated ; but that it returns 
again, ms the passion returns? And I would put this question: 
Suppose a man have been brought up to the age of 20, with- 
out ever having seen a woman or learned any thing con- 
cerning one, and }etso brought up as not fo fear to approach 
any heing. Now let him loose among women and all sorts of 
animals — let not a word be said, or an indicative motion be 
made ; (we will have the women naked if you please ;) do you 
not suppose the women would seem to him more agreeable, 
fitting and desirable than any of the other living beings about 
him ? Would he not associate with them, in preference to any 
of thfi ntheranimals '/ If you admit these questions, why would 
you not admit that water looks desirable to an untaught duck, 
and that he rushes into it, not because he has learnt by expe- 
rience that it will pe to his good, but because of some organic 
passion ? 

If the immaterialists are not satisfied with our speculations 
concerning instinctive phenomena, (we do not say concern- 
ing instinct, for there is no such thing,) may they offer some- 
thing better: remembering all the while, that we do not cal- 
culate to he deceived by empty talk, and led to suppose that 
they explain things when they only mystify them. 



341 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Oh Sleep, 

According to our views, nothing is easier than to define 
sleep. It is that state of a living animal, in which no con- 
scient actions occur. Indeed, we nnay leave out the word 
living, for in truth a dead animal is just no animal at all ; 
and such are the sentiments of those who say of a man who 
has died, he no longer exists. 

But although we can have no doubts that a sleeping state 
is a state in which neither sensations (of course not percep- 
tions) or thoughts occur, -till some questions may arise con- 
cerning sleep ; as, does a man ever sleep ? if he do, what cau- 
ses operate in bringing him into a sleeping stale ? and how do 
these causes operate in bringing about the ultimate effect ? 

There are but i^\Y, perhaps not any, who will not readily 
admit that they do sometimes sleep, according to our defini- 
tion of the term ; but putting aside one's own belief about 
the matter, it is not so easy to prove, by argument, that a 
man ever sleeps, as some may at first think. However, he 
that asserts that a man never sleeps, asserts that of which 
there is not any evidence — there is nothing to favor the opin- 
ion that a man never sleeps ; his continuing to breathe, we 
consider as no evidence of such opinion. But there are some 
considerations in favor of the opinion that a man often sleeps, 
and they naay have some weight with those who may be dis- 
posed to maintain that a man's belief that he sometimes sleeps, 
is no proof that he believes correctly. 

It must be, and is admitted, even by immaterialists, that 
thinking supposes some kind of exercise of the brain ;* and 

^Abernetby, the latest raedicai writer whose love ol popularity 



• 342 

every studious man is as sensible that this exercise wearies 
his brain as he is that walking wearies hi^ lower limbs. He 
knows too, that during those hours in which he is not awake, 
and in which he does not dream as he can rememher^ this wea- 
riness of his brain, like the weariness of his limbs, goes oti'; 
but when he does dream, as he can remember, he is sensible 
that the weariness of his brain does not pass off, as when he 
does not dream. Finally, there is much evidence in favor, 
if not absolute proof of the opinion, that a man often sleeps 4 
and until something more than we can now think of, can be 
brought in favor of the opinion that a man never sleeps, it 
will be a principle with us, that a man sleeps dnring that time 
which seems a perfect blank to him, and during which he 
dreamt not, as he can remember. 

The causes of sleep are muscular, or even mere sensorial, 
exercise ; narcotics ; and compression of the brain. 

By exercise, the sensorium, or we may say, the whole ner- 
vous system^ suffers such a change that it is not in such good 
condition to act — is not so disposed to act, as before such ex- 
ercise, other things being equal. Hence stronger or more in- 
teresting impressions, or stronger sensorial tendencies, are 
necessary to keep a man awake after exercise, than before ; 
hence, too, a man retiring from noise to a soft couch, and clo- 
sing his eyes, sooner ceases to think and sense, after having 
studied or toiled all day, than he does on placing himself in a 
similar situation when not tired. 

We may say that exercise is a predisposing cause of sleep, 
and the avoiding of impressions a more immediate cause. To 
go to sleep, is to have all couscient actions cease. We do 

has given hira courage to advocate the doctrine of immaterialism, 
has" admitted the assertion that (he brain is as much an organ of 
St lisation and thought, as the liver and stomach are organs for the 
secretion of bile and gastric fluid.'* 



MS 

uot believe that in ordinary cases, the conscient actions ef 
th brain are stopped by any accumulation ot blood within the 
brain. There is no need of such a supposition to account for 
ordiiiary or healthy sleep. We do not see why, when the 
brain is not in a good condition to act, and strong impressions 
are avoided, it should not cease to act until it suffer a change 
of condition, or until stronger impressions are made upon 
gome of the sentient nerves. — Because the sensorial tenden- 
cies are sufficient to keep up an action of the brain when it is 
in a good condition to act, it does not follow that they may 
keep up such actions under other circumstances. 

But there is some reason to suppose that narcotics induce 
sleep by causing the vessels of the brain to become more dis- 
tended with blood, hereby obstructing the actions of the sen- 
sorium. It may be, however, that they atFect the condition 
of the brain, so as to cause sleep in some other way. This 
is certain, after full doses of opium are taken, the vessels of 
the head become more full. By turning to page 163, the 
reader will find our notions concerning the modus operandi of 
opium in producing sleep. We wish the immaterialists would 
tell us how they suppose opium operates in stopping the ac- 
tions of their unextended soul, or prevents it from changing 
" states." — An unextended thing can never be squeezed or 
obstructed in any of its actions : we suspect, too, that it pos- 
sesses no chemical affinities. 

That nnorbid sleep is sometimes caused by compression, 
there can be no doubt. A pice of skull driven in upon the 
brain, or an accumulation of blood as in apoplexy, or of wa- 
ter, as in hydrocephalus, stops the conscient actions of the 
brain in this way ; and when no conscient action of the brain 
can be excited, (meaning by brain all the nervous matter with- 
in the skull,) no sensation can be excited ; for the co-existence 



344 

of a conscient action of the organic and cerebral extremities 
of a nerve is as essential to a sensation as two toDgs put to- 
gether are to a pair 6^ tongs. 

Before closing this chapter, a few vyords may be offered 
concerning some of the causes that may prevent sleep. It is 
quite conceivable and even probable that a morbid action of 
the minute vessels of the brain, especially that part of it which 
we call the sensorium, may prevent the conscient actions of 
the sensorium from ceasmg, may cause a morbid watchfulness. 
The physician often tinds great difficulty in causing his pa- 
tients to sleep in such diseases as are attended v,^ith an excit- 
ed action of the vessels of the brain — excited, as he has good 
reason to believe from other considerations than merely that 
his patient cannot sleep. With that disease peculiar to hard 
drinkers, known by the name of Delirium Tremens, or Brain 
Fever, it is not uncommon for patients to pass three or four 
days and nights in succession without sleeping. 

Another cause of watchfulness may be exceedingly strong 
sensorial tendencies. — Whatever appears to us to have an 
important influence on our happiness, interests us greatly, 
and whatever interests us greatly, gives rise to very strong 
sensorial tendencies ; either because we think much about it, 
or because our thoughts relative to this thing are very in- 
tense. Now when the sensorium is strongly disposed to think 
about any thing, the man will sometimes lie tumbling and 
thinking half the night, in spite of all his " willing" to go to 
sleep. When any painful disease exists ; when the brain is in 
a rested state; or excited by tea, spirits, &c. it is difficult go^ 
ing to sleep. 

For the purpose of further illustrating and confirming the 
metaphysical, or more properly, physiological principles, we 
have already advanced ; and with the view of dispelling some 



345 



of the d?irkness which hangs over several interesting suhjeclSj 
we now proreed to treat of some of the nnorbid actions and 
conditions of the nervous system. 



■00- 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

On Dreaming^ Somnambulism, and Somnamloquism, 

Man exists in three states, a sleeping, a dreaming and a wak- 
ins; state. The dreaming state though essentially different 
from either of the other two, partakes more of the nature of 
the waking than the sleeping state. 

Although it is very common for persons to dream, we class 
dreaming among the morbid actions of the nervous syslem; 
and chiefly for the three following reasons : First. Diseased 
persons are more apt to dream than well ones. Second, We 
cannot see that dreaming is subservient to the well beir.g of 
the individual who dreams, as all healthy actions are. Third, 
We suppose that in dreaming, conscient actions sometimes 
commence in the sensorium and extend into the nerves, as 
they probably do in delirium, which last affection is univer- 
sally admitted to be a morbid one. 

There is no difficulty in pointing out an obvious distinction 
between a sleeping, and a dreaming or a waking state ; but 
to determine the precise nature of the difference between a 
dreaming and a waking state, appears to be rather more diffi- 
cult. And although it will be admitted that in most cases 
there is a wide, nay, an essential difference between (hesc 
two states; yet, for a short time, a man sometimes exists in 
such a state that he scarcely knows whether to consider it a 
dreaming or a waking state. 

U 



346 

We believe that in a dreaming state, either the organic ex- 
tremities of the nerves, or tlie parts exterior to them, are in 
such a state that impressions do not so readily excite conscient 
ctJons in them as in a waking slate; we behevc also that the 
sensorium is not in so active a stale as in waking hours. But 
both of these thii'iu;s together do not constitute all the differ- 
ences between a dreaniiug and a wakini^^ state — there is some- 
thing more, bur this somethiiig mort may be owing to the tor- 
por of the senses. 

We believe, as the rer^der knows, that conscient actions 
sometimes commence in tiie sensorium and extend into the 
nerves: now this is what we suppose takes place when a man 
dreams of seemg objects, hearing noises. &:c. We believe 
that when a man dre^ims of seeing any object, be has some- 
thing more than an idea or conception of such object — we 
believe that the same, or very nearly the same, conscient ac- 
tions take place in him that woukl were he, when awake, to 
look at such otiject. In short, we believe that when a man 
dreams he very of en has — what we will for the present call — 
perceptions without impressions; and that rhJs constitutes 
another ditFerence beUveen a dreaming ?^i\d n waking ^ or if 
you please, between a dreaming and a wakn'g state. But 
conscient actions may esteiid from the sensornjm into the 
nerves when a man is dreaming though not when he is awake, 
haca^Jise the senses are in a torpid state. It must be admil ted 
that only one action can take pi^ce in the same part at the 
same time; and it is not unreasonable to suppose that when 
the senses are in such condi'ion as to be easil}' excited by sur- 
rounding impressions, these impressions excite the sentient 
nerves more stroiiglv than the llmughts can excite them. 
Hence in a healthv waki-g man, we have no (perceptions with- 
out -mpressioiis ; (not considerui^ ^ia^e^ of organs as impres- 
sions.) 



347 

Curious questions now arise : — When a man dreams of hear- 
ing noises, seeing objects, &c. do the conscient ac! ions which 
extend from the sensorinm into the nerves, exiead to theoigan- 
ic extremities ofthe nerves, or only into their cerebral extremi- 
ties ? And if they extend only into the cerebral extremities, 
what shall we say they constitute ? — ll^ is clear that they con- 
stitute neither a sensation or a perception, according to our 
definitions of these terms, and yet they are somethmg more 
than a thought. 

Our views concerning these questions are rather complica- 
ied j but we will labor to express them as clearly as we can. 
We are inclined to believe that conscient actions very fre- 
quently extend from the sensorium into the cerebral extrem- 
ities of the nerves iii dreaming, but rarely so far as to the or- 
ganic extremities. Li the former case we would say these 
actions constitute imperfect retrograde perceptions ; in the 
latter, perfect retrogade perceptions. Now wsth respect to 
the optic und auditory nerves, their organic and cerebral ex- 
tremities are so near to each ether, that an imperfect optical 
or audia! perception may be so nearly hke a perfect one, as to 
influence a man's conduct the same as a perfect one. If so, 
a man on awakening, after having had an imperfect percep- 
tion of his friend, would say (for to saij is to conduct, as much 
as to run, stab, or perform any other muscular action.) " I 
have dreamed of seeing my friend, and it seemed the same to 
me as though I had really seen him." 

But with respect to those nerves, the organic extremities 
of which are more distant from the cerehral, we believe that 
a conscient action of the sensoriutn and of the cerebral ex- 
tremity of one of these nerves, would not constitute a seeming 
so like that consisiing of a conscient action oi' both extrennties 
of such nerve and the sensorium, that the man would say they 
are the same. Therefore, as we seldom have perfect per- 



348 

ceptions while dreaming, it seldom seems to us as though we 

experience feelings in dista-ii narts of our bodies, cr '\n other 
word*, we seldom have feelings in distant parts of our bodies, 
which feehngs are cAusf-D by the actions of the sensonum. 
It IS true, we m;ij dream of seeing a red hot iron, or a piece 
of ice. and of laying our hands upon them, (for all this would 
be hut to have conscient actioiis of the sensorium and the 
opiic nerves,) but on awakening we should not say it seemed 
to us as though >he iron buriied us, or the ice made our hands 
ache with the cold. We ourselves have dreamed of holding 
our hands in a fire, but we were never burned in such cases— 
we never smarted at the time, or awoke as we should jf fire 
had actually been applied to our hands. But we have dream- 
ed of seeing objects, [have had imperfect optical percep'mns 
of objects when not awake.] and our consciousness was so very 
near like a perfect seeing of such objects, that at this moujent 
we should say. precisely the same actions took place in us, 
that would were we to look ai such objects when awake ; 
were it not for certain pathological facts. "* 

That we have something more than ideas of objects when 
we 566 them in our dreams, we no more doubt than we do 
that we ever dream.— Every man must know that there is an 
essenti'^ I d'fference betweei a sensation and an idea ; that 
they do not dilf* r oijly in degree, and if any one doubt his 
having any thuig more than pretty vivid ideas of objects when 
he sees them in h-s dreaming hours, we would request him to 

* It IS said that a ter a jnan has hiid the organic extremities of 
his optic nervH- d j.rroyed, he still dreams of seeing ol^jects as be- 
fore. And a young man rendered pt-rlecUy blind by a disease 
which undoubteiliy -itfecied his optic nerves in some pnrt of iheir 
course from the ensodum to the retinas tells n.ie tliaf lie sti! sees 
objeris in his dreanis, as belo/e lie met willi this Itiineniable mis- 
foMuoe. 



349 

pav attention to his dreanns, when he dreams, or as soon as be 
awakes.* 

As lo audial perceptions while dreaming, we believe that 
we frequently have imperfect ones, and sometimes perfect 
ones ; and that ihe latter are ihose which cause us to awake 
as suddenly as though the perception were a natural one— as 
though it were excited by an impression. 

As to those perceptions which consist, in part, of actions 
of nerves of feeling, we believe there are many men, and 
so^ne women, who might testify that they have, while dream- 
ing, ex[)erie!iced such perceptions ; attended too with other 
sensible phenonieiia which convir.ce them that there is no 
mistake ahoiit the matter. But there may be some dispute 
whether these perceptious commence in the seasorium, or 
the genital organs, — We are of tlie opinion thai they some- 
times commence in tiie one, and sometimes in the other. 

We have said ihat the sensor, urn is less active in a dream- 
ing than in a vvakiug state. By this, we mean it is not so 
much disposed to act, a .d its actions are less mtense th;in in 
a waking state ; but many say tlieir thoughts or ideas are 
more distinct or vivid when dreaming than when awake ; 
and such persons may be disposed to maiiitain that whatever 
thinks is more active during dream ng than durnig waking 
hours. Such persons, we beheve, mistake weak or imper- 



* [f is not so absurd ti> request onn to attend to his dreams while 
dreammg, as some may thinly : owing to out desire to deteroine 
what takes plaro in us when we dream we have often dreamed 
al)')ut (uir dreams and >.)ti>fied ourselves Mt tlie time, that wii< n we 
se(^ objects or hear noises lu our die; ins, we have .snmeitrm<i more 
than optical or audi.d itieas oi sncii olijects or noises. [low much 
weiL^hl waking men in general may place in their dreaming conclu- 
sions, we know not ; but our requt^sting them to attend to their 
dreiims while dreaming, may be a cause ot their doing so 5 antt by- 
doing so, they may be satisfied at tlie time, that they have some- 
thing more than mere ideas. 



35@ 

€ect perceptions for vivid ideas. Perhaps, bv closing our 
eyes when awa!:c, we may have more dlsiiact ideas of absent 
objects than when Ihey are open, and this too for obvious 
reaspns ; but when a man is dreaming, we believe that the 
coriscient actions of his sensorium, and nerves too, are less 
intense, and those of the sensorium less numerous, than when 
aw;ike. 

It has been said that in dreaming hours, our thoughts occur 
in very unnatural relations, and that we imagine many strange 
and unnatural things ; and yet it is generally admitted that 
their succession is governed by the same principles as when 
awake. Now if their succession be governed by the same 
priiiciples as when awake, and they do la fact occur in odd 
relalioris, we do not see how the immaterialists can account 
for the fact. If they assert that these principles are any thing 
besides ultitnate facts or laws of thought — whsch, by the by, 
are as truly law^ of nature as any other ultimate and univer- 
sal facts — we call on them to prove the assertion ; but if they 
adrnst that they are lioihing more, we ask if these principles, 
these laws of nature, are out of tune^ -when a man dreams ^ 
and if not, we ask the cause of his thoughts occurring inuQ- 
Siatural relations. 

The materialist, however, is not much puzzled by the phe- 
nomena of dreaming: he supposes that if our ideas, when 
awake, shouid become perceptions — that if our sensorial ac- 
iions should be atterided with corresponding actions of the 
optic and auditory nerves — we should hear noises, see strange 
objects, and be in as maFjy different and distant places in a mi- 
nute, as when we dreaiia ; our ideas or sensorial actions oc- 
•curring in the sam.e naiural order that they now do, when we 
are awake. If the optical and audial ideas which I shall 
have while writing the following paragraph, should, at the 
time they occur, be attended with nervous actions, so as 



351 

to become optical and audial perceptions^ I should Crs really 
as when 1 dream,) ^ee as many strange things, be in as pnrwj 
distant places, and coTiverse with as many absent friends, in a 
minute, as i did in my la^c iiijzht'^o dream. 

Thousands of soldiers on Deerfield Plains — Shotdder armSy 
cries out that tall officer with a fong red and white fealhrr in 
his hat — Ah, here's (he city of Troy — What a noble block of 
buildings that — Res^lly, fr'.end JoT>.es, I am [if:;!it glad to see 
you here at Brighton again — did you thrust your (i?t down a 
wild boar's throat and puii oi-^ his Hver and lights ? No. but 
I rode through She air ;ir; ride a if^rbej-'s ,«hip< d pole, and saw 
the clouds bur!sin<2: with a birje 11 irric, assd a mi^lsly snappij'g^ 
there was~Come along here ; do you see that monstrous ox, 
with a ram's head slicking ->ut just behird his udder ! 

While writing the above eeM<e?iCe I had ideas of distant 
places, unnatural tilings, abst-nl frierids, and ofsou/.v^s ; and if 
my ideas liad l)een peifect or impe? feet perrepti^nji | should 
have experienced some thing very sinnlar to what a dreamn g 
man experiences ; y(^t no one will coajterid thii tny tiiouihts 
did not occur accordi?;g to the same |ir;nc!ples liiat if.ev do at 
other times; or contend 'hat it is an^ more st*ange tliat tliej 
should occur as they did, than it ss tliai ai idea of. s(/ir///6 should 
be followed by ideas of a sick mas , coughmg and spitting. 

But notwithstandtng what we hiue said, we ad«nit that a 
man's; dreaming thougtits njay ofteii occur in smgular rela- 
tions, and we should not be at a loss to accourit for their do- 
ing so. We may suppose that as tlie sensori .'m is not in a 
very active condition during dreaming , many of its tendencies 
may be too weak to give rise to actions ; hence instead of 
thinking over all the thoughts that usuaMy constitute a certain 
train, some of these thoughts may not occur, mny be left out, 
as it -vere ; and of course, those that do occur, occur iu a new 
and singular relation. 



332 

It sometimes happens that when a man is not awake, those 
motive actions ofhis brain which j)recede the contractions of 
the muscles of locomotion and voice, will not set in, on the 
occurrence of certain sensorial actions, as the) do when the 
man is awake. In such case the man may urgently desire to 
speak, or move his limbs or body, but cannot — his muscles 
do not contract. He has the Incubus or nightmare. We 
are inclined to believe that in some rare cases, even those 
motive actions of the brain which precede the contractions of 
the muscles of respirdion, cease, and the person dies without 
moving a limb. We well recollect a death which we conjec- 
ture was caused in this way. It was the death of an elderly 
gentleman who had not been threatened with any kind of tits, 
nor suspected of having any disease of ihc bloodvessel*. He 
died in bed ; and from all appearance, it was evident that he 
died Without moving a limb. Query. If in such cases, the cir-^ 
culation should cease the instant tiie respiration ceases, would 
such changes take place in the system as to render it mipos- 
sible to excite it into action again, so quic kly as when the 
heart continues to beat, and thus gives rise to accumulations 
of venous blood? 

At other times those motive actions of the brain which pre- 
cede the contractions of the muscles of loco-motion and voice, 
do as readily set in on the occurrence of certain sensorial ac- 
tions, as when the person is awake. In such case the person 
talks, walks, and performs marjy otlier muscular actions. It 
is not generally the case, however, that the same person talks 
and walks in his dreaming hours; and indeed, sleep talking 
and sleep walking are considered as diiferent affections, aud 
are furnished with different wan es,—somnamloquism for the 
former, and somnambulism ^oviho. latter; but they are not es-' 
sentially different, pathologically considered. 

In some instances the somnambulist's eyes are wide open ; 



35S 

and it is probable that bis optic nerves are ia as excitable a 
condition as when his other senses are nol in a torpid state, 
as when he is awake. If so, he has natural and perfect per- 
ceptions, he sees as distinct!}' as a waking man does with the 
same degree of light. At other times his eyes are closedj 
and he goes about from place to place as a man in 
the dfirk, or as a blind mari, and sometimes meets with acci- 
deats. Those who are fond of the marvellous do not tell us of 
the accidenis which somnambulists meet with, in their blind 
excursions ; but these accidenis occur so frequently that most 
men are acquainted with particular instances. We have ma- 
ny zoonderful accounts, or many accounts of the wondtv/ul da- 
ings^ of somnambulists; hut they have not puzzled philoso- 
phers so much as ihe somniloq'jisls. The latter often utter 
long discourses, particularly religious discourses, when alone 
or when closely surrounded by many persons, and with greater 
fluency than they probably would, were they awake* If ques- 
tions are put to them, they often give rational answers ; and 
what is perhaps still more difficult to account for, they cannot 
remember, after they awake, that they dreamed or uttered 
any thing — provided we may rely on their testimony. 

We suppose that somniloquists cannot generally remem- 
ber their dreams, because they consist of ideas only.-— AmaR 
never remembers his mere ideas. We remember our per 
ceptions, that is, we rememder what vvg have secn^ heard, &c. 
But to have an idea occur to us to-day, is not to remember that 
it occurred to us last night, or at any other particular time. 
Ideas may occur to us to-day, which are not new to us, and 
which we do not consider as such ; but to remember that they 
occuired to us at a particular time, we must have an idea of 
ourselves in a place at a certain time, must have ideas of the 
things that were around us at that time, and must think that 

this idea occurred to us when we were in such place. When a 

45 



•354 

mm remembers a dream, he remembers or thinks of, what he 
saw^ heard, &c. when he was not awake. A man maj have 
thousands of mere ideas when not awake, but if he have 
no perceptions, he cannot say, when awake, that these ideas 
occurred to hmi when he was not awake : Milhons of ideas 
occur to the waking man every day, and at night he may not 
be able to say, with ceriamty that one of them has occur- 
red to him this day. The reader will remember that in the 
chapter on sleep, we came to the conclusion that we often lie 
hours together without having any ideas, not so much from 
the consideration that we cannot remember, after we awake, 
that any ideas occurred to us during these hours, as from oth- 
er considerations. 

But we shall be told that somniloquists do somelimes have 
perceptions ; that they give rational answers to questions, and 
undoubtedly hear and regard, such questions. This we must 
grant; but they do not have such perceptions as enable them 
to say in the morning, that they had these perceptions the night 
previous. Ask them if they ever heard or thought of such ques- 
tion as you know was put to them last night, ana they may 
tell you yes, but cannot say whether it was last night, yester- 
day, or a year ago. 

If this way of accounting for the fact, that somniloquists 
are often, nay, generally, unable to remember that they dream- 
ed at the time that bystanders heard them talk, be not satisfac- 
tory to all, we shall not thing it strange. We are not, our- 
selves, entirely satisfied with it; but under the present state 
of our ignorance we cannot account for it in a more plausible 
way. We assume what we cannot prove, and what some 
may not be disposed to grant ; and that is, that the dreams 
which somniloquists cannot remember, are not like the 
dreams which men do remember, but consist of mere ideas 
with a few scattering perceptions. 



355 

Slioulcl the remarks of the present writer be thought wor^ 
thy of notice, the assertion, that we never remember our 
ideafs, may give rise to ingenious discussions; and if so, 
we doubt not that it will be determined that we do not re- 
member an idea, in the sense we remember a thunder showcfj 
er any other event that takes place without. 

That a man should readih hear when not awake, is not 
more strange, than that one sense should be less torpid, at the 
time others are more torpid. 

The reason whv somniloquists sometimes talk more flu- 
ently than they would were they awake, is this, their train of 
ideas relative to the subject concerning which they talk, is not 
interrupted by such discordant ideas or sensorial actions, as 
would occur were they awake. When a waking man con- 
verses with others on any subject, he thinks what words are 
most proper for him to use; thmks how his hearers will be 
pleased with what he says ; thinks what they will think of his 
person and jestures; in short, he has many perceptions and 
ideas which prevent the regular, connected flow of ideas rela* 
live to the subject he is talking about; and hence does not 
converse with the ease and fluency that he would were he ia 
the condition of a somniloquist. We are all of us acquaint* 
ed with men who undoubtedly think finely in theii studies; 
but who, when they attempt to speak in public, make ver/ 
bad work of it. A man cannot speak in public, flippantly 
and to tile purpose, until he be regardless about what words 
he uses, regardless about what his hearers will think : he nnust 
think right on about his subject, and nothing but his subject. 

As to the immediate caw^e^ of dreams, they may be divided 
into two t lasses, sensorial and nervous. The sensorial caus- 
es are nothing more nor less than the sensorial tendencies ; the 
nervous are such states of organs, and such impressions, as 
give rise to actions of our nerves. 



356 

There are many causes which serve to bring the nervous 
system into that weak, ticklish state tvhich medical men call 
irritable ^ all such causes may be coiisidered as predisposmg 
causes of dreams. Affectioiis oC the digestive organs; mental, 
or more properly sensorial agitations, and hard drinkiug are 
of lhi> kind. 

When a weary man first goes to sleep, his nervous system is 
not in a fjjvorabie condition to act ; but after sleeping some 
time, his nervous system becomes recruited, aud as the sen- 
sorsum is disposed to act — as it has many ai^d strong tenden- 
cies lo act, it wiii set to work of its own accord, if it be not 
set to work by some nervous action. Every thing else being 
eq'59!, the stronger sensorial tesidencies give rise to actions in 
preference to the weaker, and as we are strongly disposed 
to ih-nk about such subjects as we have recently thought much 
about, our sensorial dreams (speaking with reference to their 
cause) generally relate to such subjects as have lately engag- 
ed our aitentioii during our waking hours. 

When dreams are caused by states of organs, or by im- 
pressions, they generally liave some relation to such organs, 
or to the innpreBsing agents. Thus, if a bottle of hot water 
at the feet be the impressing agent, the person may dream of 
making a journey to the (op of Mount iEtna and of finding 
the heat of the ground almost insupportable ; if a blister ap- 
plied to the head, the person may dream of being scalped by a 
party of Indians. The bladder and seminal vessels being re- 
plete with their respective fluids, give rise to dreams having 
some relation to these organs. A full stomach, obstructing a 
free motion of the diaphragm, causes an accumulation of blood 
about the heart aud lungs, and in this way gives rise to a sense 
of weight or load at the breast; and the person dreams of a 
*' huge and hideous spectre, t^rannicailv squatted upon the 
chest, and striving to take away the breath." 



357 

Persons often start suddenly as they are about going to sleep. 

How are we to account for this ? We conjecture that the per- 
son's ideas become perceptions at this tnstant, and seeing li'im- 
self Ml trouble tile motive actions of the brajii set in ; (or the 
nervous system is not yet entirely cahned down into an inac- 
tive slate ; hut if it were, ihe motive actions would not thus set 
in and cause the man to awake ; instead of tliis. lie would lie m 
a troubled diea.n, desiii.ig to move, but unable to do so. 

We have expre.^s'ed the opinion that, a heaUhy waking man 
has CO perceptions without impressions, (as in dreaming,) be- 
cause surrounding impression? nold tiie mastery over the sen- 
sonurn in exciting ihe sentient nerves.* Now, in certain 
morbid stales of the system this is not the case; but the 
waking man sees specires or apparitions, and hears them 
talk ; and tliis is as much as to say, he sees and liears 
what does not exiat — sees and hears without impres- 
sions. Philosophers have not agreed on an^ name for the 
afFeciion in which a person sees and hears, when awake 
without impressions, and is at the same time so far from being 
crazy as to re^^ard the whole a delusion, or the eiiects of a 
morbid state of the body, requiring pliysic, leeclies and blis- 
ters. It is an affection difierent from that commonl_) called 
deiirium ; for in this last the thoughts occur in irregular, un- 
natural relations — the sugiicsi'mg principle is out of lune, eras 
some would say, " the judgment is disordered." However, 
thoe false perceptions of a waking man have generally been 
considered as " ireaks" of that htlle unruly wanderer calied 

* This way of accounting tor the fact that a heullhy waking n?an 
has ISO perceptions \vitht)ijt inipressioua, uoes no' app«^ar entirely 
satisf.ictory to us. At some tuture period some new sentiipent con- 
cerning the matter may be advanced. — Perhaps it .way be hinted 
that when we are awake the seiiboriuin is so active thacoui ih< oghts 
do not s/ick by us long enouch to give rise to correspoiidiag ac- 
tions of the cerebral extremities ol nerves. 



^50 

the *' imagination." — We propose io denominate the affection 
We are now speaking of, day-dreaming. 

We have recently met with the history of a case of day- 
dreaming in the New-Enland Galaxy, which was copied into 
that paper from the Western M(3nthly Review. The editor 
of this review finds the story in a work which is entitled 
" Eertsley on the Human Mind," a work which is said 
to be a compendium of all that has heretofore been written 
upon the subject of the human mind. This story is the more 
interesting as it was originally given by the subject of the af- 
fection, who was evidently a man of observation, and not un-^ 
acquainted with metaphysical subjects. We here give the 
story entire, as the editor of the Galaxy has taken it from the 
above mentioned Review. 

' M. Nicolai, a member of the Royal Society of Berlin, 
some iime sifice presented to that institution, a memoir on the 
subject of a complaint with which he was affected ; and one 
of tiie singular consequerices of which was the representation 
of various spectres or apparitions. M. Nicolai for some 
years had been subject to a congestion in the head, and was 
b'ooded frequently for it by leeches. After a detailed ac- 
count of his henlth, on which he grounds much medical, as 
well as psycological reasoning, he gives the following interest- 
ing narrative. 

• hi the first two months of the year 1791, I was much af- 
fected m my mind by several incidents of a very disagreeable 
nature ; and on the 24th of February, a circumstance occur- 
red wh'ch irritated me extremely. At ten o'clock in the fore*- 
noon, my wife and jusother person came to console me ; I was 
in a violent perturbation of mind, owing to a series of inci- 
deuTs wiwch had altogether wounded my moral feelinji^', and 
from which [ ?-w opo'>ibiiity of relief, when suddenly I ob- 
servtd at the distance ©f ten paces from me^ a figure, ibe fig- 



S6^ 

ute of a deceased person. I pointed at it, and asked my wife 
whether she did not see it. She said nothing, bui bemg 
much alarmed, she endeavored to compose me, and sent for 
the physician. The figure remained some seven or eight 
minutes, and at length I became a little more calm ; and a^ I 
was extremely exhausted, ! soon after fell into a troubled kind 
of slumber, which lasted for about half an hour. Tsie vision 
was ascribed to the great agitation of mind in which I had 
been, and it was supposed that I should have nothing more 
to apprehend from that cause ; but the violent aflfection hav- 
ing put my nerves into an unusual state, from this arose other 
consequences, which require a more detailed de^scription. 

^ In the afternoon, a little after four o'clock, the figure 
which I had seen in the morning again a[)peared. I was 
alone when it happened ; a circumstance which, as may be 
easily conceived, could not be very agreeable. I went there- 
fore to the apartment of my wife, to whom I related it. But 
thither also the figure pursued me. Sometimes it was pre- 
sent, sometimes it vanished ; but when seen it was always 
the same standing figure. A little after six o'clock, several 
stalking figures also appeared ; but they had no connexion 
with the standing figure. I can assign no reason for this ap- 
parition, than that, though much more composed in my mind^ 
I had not been able so entirely to forget the cause of such 
deep and distressing vexation, and had reflected on the con- 
sequences of it, in order, if possible, to avoid them ; and that 
this happened three hours after dnuier, at the time when the 
digestion first begins. 

' At length I became more composed, with respect to the 
disagreeable incident which had given rise to the first appa- 
rition, but though I had used very excellent niedicmes, and 
found myself in other respects perfectly well, yet the appari- 
tions did not diminish j on the contrary, they rather increas- 



360 

ed in number, and were transformed in the most extraordina- 
ry maimer. 

' After I had recovered from the first impression of terror, , 
I liever feit myself particularly agitated by these apparitions, 
as I considered them to be really the extraordinary consequences 
of indisposition. On the coiiirarv, I en<^e;jvored as much as 
possible to preserve my composure of miid, that I might re- 
main disiinctly cosiscious of what passed within me. I ob- 
served these phantoms with great accuracy, and very often 
reflected on my previous thoughts, with a vievv to discover 
some law in the association of ideas, by which exactly those 
or other figures might present themselves to the imagination. 
Sometimes 1 thought I had made a discovery, especially in 
the latter part of my visions ; but on the whole, I coufd trace 
no connexion which the various figures, that thus appeared 
and disappeared to my sight, had with my state of mfnd, or 
with my employment and the other thoughts wdiich engaged 
my attention. After frequent accurate observations on the 
subject, having fairly proved and maturely considered it, I 
could form no other conclusion than that when the nervous 
system is weak, and at the sfime time too much excited, or 
rather deranged, similar figures may appear m^wcA a manner 
as if they were actually seen and heard ^ for these visioris in my 
case, were not the consequence of any known law of reason, 
of ihe imagination, or other usual association of idea ; and 
such also is the case with other men, as far as we can reason 
from the (ew examples we know. 

' The figure of the deceased person never appeared to me 
after this dreadful day ; but several other figures showed 
themselves afterwards very distinctly ; sometimes such as I 
knew, mostly hovv ever of persons I did not know ; and among 
those known to me. were the semblance of both living and 
deceased persons, but mostly the former ; and 1 made the ob- 



36i 

servation, that acquaintances with whonn I (^aily conversed 
never appeared to me as phantoms ; but always such as 
were at a distance. When these apparitions had continued 
some weeks, and I could regard them with the greatest com- 
posure, I afterwards endeavored at mj own pleasure to call 
forth phantoms of several acquaintances, whom I, for that 
reasoa, represented to my imagmation in the most lively man- 
ner, but m vain ; for however accurately I pictured to my 
mind (he figures of such persons, 1 never once could succeed 
in my desire of seemg them externally, thoui^h 1 had some 
short time before seen them as phantom^, and rhey had, per- 
haps, afterwards unexpectedly presented themselves to me in 
every case involuntarily, as if thev had beeri presented ex- 
ternally, like the phenomena in nature ; though- they certainly 
had their origin internalbj ; at the same time I zoas always able 
io distinguish, with the greatest precision^ phantoms from phe- 
nomena. Indeed I never once erred in this, as 1 was gen- 
erally calm and seif-cellected on the occasion. I knew ex- 
tremely well when it only appeared to me th-^t the door was 
opened and a phantom entered, and when the door really was 
opened: and any perso.i came in. 

' It is also to be noted, that these figures appeared to me at 
all times, and under the nost different circumstances, equally 
distinct and clear. Whether 1 was alone or in company, by 
broad daylight, or in the nij^ht time ; in my own, or in my 
neighbor's house ; only when 1 svas a^ another person's house 
they were less frequent ; and when 1 walked the street, they 
very seldom appeared. When I shut my eyes, sometimes 
the figures disappeared ; sometimes the) remained even af- 
ter I closed them. K they vanished in the former case, on 
opening my eyes again, nearly the same figures appeared 
which I had before seen. 

* I sometimes conversed with my physician and my wife, 

d6 



362 

concerning the phantom?; which at the time hovered around 
me ; for in general the form? appeared ofieaer \n motion than 
at rest. They did not alwajs continue present ; they fre- 
quently left me altogether, and ag;iia appeared for a short 
time or a longer spare of t me. singly or more at once, hut in 
general several appeared together. For the most part, I saw 
human figures of both sexes ; they com'nonly passed to and 
fro as if they had no connexion with each other, like people 
at a fair when all is bustle, sometimes they appeared to have 
business with one another. Once or twice I «aw among them 
persons on horseback, and dog-^ and bird^^ ; these figures all 
appeared to me in their natural size, as distinctly as if they 
had existed in real life, wish the several tints on the uncover- 
ed parts of the body, and with all theditlcrent kinds of colours 
of clothes. But I thmk, however, that the colors were some- 
what paler than they are in nature. 

' None of these figures had any distinguishing characters ; 
tbey were neither terrible, ludicrous or repulsive ; most of 
them were ordinary in their appearaare ; some were even 
agreeable. 

' On the whole, the longer I continued in this state, the 
more did the number of the ph'^ntasms increase, and the ap- 
paritions become more (Tequent. About four weeks after, 
I began to hear them speak ; but for the most part they ad- 
dressed themselves to me, and endeavored to console me in 
my gi«ef, winch sti!) left deep traces In my misid. This speak- 
ing \ heard most frequently whei) alone, though I sometimes 
heard it in company, Uitennixed with the conversation of real 
persons ; frequently in single phrases only, but sometimes 
even in connected discourse. 

'Though at this time I enjoyed rather a good state of 
health, both iu body and y}:vo(\,. aod hnd become so very fa- 
miliar with these phantoms, that at last they did not excite 



363 

the least cl!sa!;yref^al)1e emotion, but on the contrary, afforded 
me frequent subjects for amusement and mTlh ; yet as the 
disorder greatly increased, and the (igures appeared to me 
for whole days together, and even during the night ; if! hap^ 
pened to be awakt;, I hvd recourse to several medicines, and 
was at last again obliged to apply leeches. 

' This was performed on the 20th of April, at eleven 
o'clock in the forenoon, I was alone with the surgeon ; but 
during the operation the room swarmed with human forms of 
every description, wh?ch crowded fast on one another; this 
continued till half past four o'clock, when the digestion com- 
mences. 1 then observed that the figures began to move 
slowly ; soon afterwards the colours became gradually paler, 
and every seven minutes ihey lost more and more of their in- 
tensity, without any alteration in the distinct figure of the ap- 
paritions. At half past six o'clock all the figures were entire- 
ly white, and moved very little, yet the forms appeared per- 
fectly distinct ; by degrees they became visibly less plain, 
without decreasing in number, as had often formerly been the 
case. The figures did not move off, neither did they vanish, 
which had also usually happened on former occasions. In 
this instaiice ihey dissolved immediately in air; of some, 
even whole pieces remained for a length of time, which also 
by degrees were lost to the eye. At about eight o'clock there 
did not remain a vestige of any of them, and I have never 
since experienced any appearance of the kind. Twice or 
thrice smce that time I have felt a propensity, if I may be so 
allowed to express myself, or a sensation as if 1 saw some- 
thing, which in a moment again was gone. I was even sur- 
prised by this sensation whilst writing the present account, 
having in order to render it tnore accurate, perused the pa- 
pers of 1791, and recalled to my memory all the circumstan- 



SG4 

CCS of that time. So little are we sometimes, even in the 
greatest composure of mind, masters of our imaginations.' 

Those clauses wh'ch we have italicised in the foregoing 
narrative, are peculiarly interesting to us, as they are expres- 
sions offacts and opinions which coincide with our views. — 
Let us consider them separately and in order. 

First. M. Nicolai regarded the opparitions which he saw, 
as no apparition? at all — no beings, material or immaterial ; 
but *' the extraordinary consequences of indisposition ;" orm 
other word?*, morbid actions of that which thinks and senses, 
the nervous system. 

Second. After maturely considering the subject, M. Nico- 
lai came to the conclusion, " that when the nervous system 
is weak, and at the same time too much excited, or rather de- 
ranged, similar figures may appear in such manner as if actw 
ally seen and heard ,*" or as we should express it : When the 
nervous system is in an irritable state and much excited, such 
actions of the optic and auditory nerves may occur v/ith im- 
pressions as would be excited were the man to see and hear 
actual beings. 

The I'/izrc/ clause in italics is especially worthy of notice, as 
it goes to refute the vulgar not ons concerning the " souls" or 
** ghosts" of deceased persons. All who are so little acquaint- 
ed with the animal economy as to believe in the existence of 
these brain-begotten nonentities, admit that when the unex- 
tended soul, or the extended ghost, (both the same thing — at 
least, the immaterialists have not informed us to the contra- 
ry ) quits the body — quits it because its organization has suf- 
fer< d derangemeiit — Ihe body (i»ot the man^ for the immate- 
rialists place personal identity in the sameness of that uuex* 
tended thing wbjch thinks.) dies ; but M, Nicolai saw the 
louls, ghosts, apparitions, ©r ptiantoms ** o/*6u/A lAe livin* 
»nd the dead,''^ 



the fourth clause favors the opinion which we ventured to 
give (before we saw the above narrative) concerriin^ our per- 
ceptions in night-dreaming ; and (hat is, that these percep- 
tions are for the most part imperfect^ that is, they ilo not sup- 
pose an action of the organic extremities of nerves ; and jet 
our optical and audial ones are so nearly hke perfect ones, as 
to i;;fiuence a man's coriduct much the same as perfect Oi:es, 
or m other words, as to be mistaken for perfect ones, Al- 
though M. Nicholai's morbid perceptions were almost exactly 
like natural or^es — although they were certainly somethmg 
essentially different from mere ideas or conceptions^ still, be- 
ini^ awake aiid rational, he '* was always able to distit.giiish, 
wnh the greatest precision, phantoms from phenomena;" and 
we have no reason to suppose that he did so by re«iortingto 
the testimony of the sense of feeling — by putting forth his 
harid^ to feel the phaiitoms in the places where they appear- 
ed to be. 

If the present chapter on dreaming have the effect of doing 
away the absurd notions so generally entertained concernmg. 
dreams, apparitions, ghosts, hobgoblins, and the iike, we shall 
Dot think it useless. 



-00- 



CHAPTER XXVIl. 

On Insanity » 

We treat of insanity in a physiological point of view ; we 
have nothing to say of its causes or treatment ; our obicct is 
to pomt out its nature. If the reader do not remember what 
judging consists in, according to our views, we would hare 



366- 

iiif-n return fd the seventeenth chapter of this work, before he 
p r o c (:. c u s a n y f^i rt h e r . 

It is not probable that a case ever did or will occur in 
\?h5ch three of tfie live seisse? testified fa]se>v concerning one 
thing ; but if the eve, the ear, and the hand, should testify to 
any person tliat an eaemy is present, threatening him. when 
there is not, such person would undoubtedly believfi that such 
person is presi^nt. and ail the world could nc^t change his be- 
lief; of course, his conduct would be so influenced by his 
false perceptioi^s, that all sane persons would pronounce him 
insane, respecting this enemy, if nothing more. We see, 
then, ih;it a case of insanity Irom false perceptions is supposa- 
bh, Bui thu case of M. Nicolai shows that when the thoughts 
occur in a natural order — when the suggesting jj/tticiple is in 
order^ a man m.\y have false optical and audial perceptions, 
grid yet. so far from being insane, reason on all subjects as 
soiodSy as the soundest philosopher. Th-.s then is essential 
to insanity — tht suggesting principle must be out of order 'y or in 
plain matte.^-of fact language, the sensorium must act helter- 
skelter, first one thought and theii another, without any pro- 
per Oracr or relation. 

Wheii the nervous system is in such state that the sensori- 
um acts thus, iha schoolmen would say, the judgment is dis- 
ordered ; and furthermore, when the nervous system is in 
such state, false perceptions are apt to ars^e ; when Ihese oc- 
cur, they would say, the perception is disoidered, or the man 
is (hlrrious. 

According to our views, dehrium is not essential to insani- 
ty ; but, although a case of insanity from mere false percep- 
tions, is supposable^ insanity is essential to delirium. A certain 
variety of insanity is delirium, or delirium is a frequent at- 
tendant on insanity. The mere false perceptions which do 
in reahty occur in a waking man whose thoughts occur in a 



•367 

ce^ular. natural order, do not constitute delirium — they con- 
stitu'e what we call day-dreaming. 

If the reader be not satij^fied with this short chapter on in- 
sanity, he may find a deal of learned nonsense concerning the 
subject, in various medical and metaphysical bo9ks. 



■000- 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

On Idiotism. 

As the intellectual powers of different species of animals are 
more or less perfect, accordingly as their braujs are more or 
less developed ; so the irite'slec'ual powers of different indi- 
viduals of the same species correspond, in perfection, wsth 
the perfection of their brains ^ and one may decide with much 
certainty whether a man be a gefuus or a fool, merely by view- 
ing his head. If the individual possess a full, high forehead, 
and other part? of the head in natural proportions, it is pretty 
certain that he is not a natural, that is, congmital, fool ; and 
highly probable that he is a man of good natural parts ; ye.t 
he may not be reputed as a man of talents, for although the 
sensorium be ever so fuily developed aiid well organized, it 
cannot thirdc without tendencies. Knowledge is as essential 
to intellectual superiority as a good bram ; but a good bram 
will acquire knowledge with greater f4ciiity than a poor 
one. However, a full, high forehead, and a {arga faciei an- 
gU,^ are not sure indications of a good sensorium ; for the 

* >upposino; a skull to be observed in profile, in the position 
which it would have when the occipital coiulyles are at rest in the 
arficulir h(til'.uvs of tjie atlas, in tlie ert^ct iltitude of ti!e ho y. and 
neither inclined backwards nor forwards^ — a line dniwn horn the 



S68 

§kull and the membranes which envelope the brain may be 
unusually thick; or (he outer and insensible partofthe cere- 
bral mass may be uncommonly great in proportion to the sen- 
sible part — of which part the sensorium constitutes a share; 
or the sensible part, though suffirientlv large, may be poorlv 
organized,— it may be too dry and stiff, or too soft and phleg- 
matic, or it may be in divers other morbid conditions. 

A low forehead soon sloping backwards, with flat temples 
not \ery dfsjant, indicate a deficiency of that part of the braia 
which is so influenced by exercise as to acquire a habit of net- 
ing without impression, Yet, as in the above case, these out- 
ward appearances are not sure indications of an imperfection 
of the sensorium. But in most, perhaps all, cases ofcongeni- 

greatest projection of the forehead to that of the upper m xillary 
bone^ fuHows the flirec'ion of the face, and is railed thejaciaj titte - 
the angle wfuch tj;jis forms with a second line, contitiued horizon- 
tally backwarcJs, is the fadGt nyiirle.'AvA measures the relative pro- 
nnnence of theja • s and forehead. -Tlje facial angle in the human 
subject Viirie- from fi5° to 85^, spe:^king of the adult ; for in the 
child it readies *^0° The G'-eciai' srfisis represented their legis-r 
lators, sages, and poets, with a f rial angle of yu° ; and th ir he- 
roes and gods, with an anj^le of 100°. 

Tlse following is a statement of the angle in certain animals, ta- 
ken by drawing a line parallel to the floor of the nostrils and an- 
other frtmi the greatest pron)inence of the alveoli lo the convexity 
of the cranium, without regarding the outline* of the nose and face. 
Yonng orangutang, - - 67' ( Probably l«^ss by ^^ or tO** 
Sap>ji)u, - - - - ^5"" \ in the adult animal. 
Guenon, - - - - 57 

Mandrill, - - - 42—30 



Coati, - - - 


. 


28 


P«»lerat, - 


. 


31 


Mastiff- line drawn from outer 




surface of cranium, 




41 


inner, 




30 


Hare, 




30 


Ram, - _ , 




30 


Horse, 




23 



Lawrbkce's Lectures, p. 147-8-9- 



tal idiotism, the forehead is low and narrow, indicating a con- 
tracted sensorium. — Parents who are naturally idiotic, that 
is, idiotic from original make of their thinking organ, are as li- 
able to have idiotic offspring, as they are to have offspring 
which resemble them in features ; for like organized animals 
beget like organized offspring ; and as the organs are, so are 
their functions. 

The more remote causes of idiotism, when not congenital, 
are habilual inebriety, excessive and enervating pleasures, vi- 
olent passions, injudicious management in ecphronia, [insan- 
ity] and especially an excessive use of the lancet. To which 
some add, the suppression of accustomed discharges, and the 
drinking of human blood. But in all cases the immediate 
cause is some misaffection of the brain ; and in a great ma- 
jority of cases this morbid affection is manifest to the senses 
of the anatomist. Sometimes the brain is softer than natu- 
ral, but more frequently harder and denser ; sometimes poly- 
pous and even bony concretions are discovered. 

" In idiotism," says Dr. Good, " there is no memory, no 
language, no reason." But " the idiot has all the animal ia- 
stints, and some of the passions." How it is that idiots may 
have organic and even sensorial passions, and yet " no mem- 
ory, no language, no reason," the materialist finds no diffi- 
culty in showing ; as those who have perused this work thus 
far, must be prepared to admit. But why idiots should have 
poorer souls than other human beings, rather puzzles us — 
perhaps it is because their brains are so badly organized they 
do not deserve better. We wish (he immaterialists would 
clear up this matter. It will not satisfy us, for them to com- 
pare the brain to a fiddle, and the soul to a fiddler, and tell 
us that when the fiddle is out of tune, the best musician can- 
not play a good tune upon it, for we know that impressions 

are what play upon the brain j and besides, the immaterialists 

47 



370 



are, in many instances, under the necessity of regarding the 
soul as the tiddie and the brain as the tiddle : they must ad- 
mit that there is no music, no ideas, until the brain plays up- 
on the soul. But more of this in another place. 



■000- 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

On Death and Dying. 

When all actions of the nervous an4 muscular systems 
cease, the person dies ; and if the system have suffered such 
derangement that these actions, or even those of the nervous 
system alone, cannot, by any haunai means, be excised again, 
the person is absolutely dead, — dead in the common sense of 
the word. That a man may be dead in the common sense 
of the word, it is not necessary that his muacular organs have 
undergone such change m their physiological organization 
that no contractions can by any means be excited in them. 
Otherwise the criminal is not "dead, dead," whose volunta* 
ry muscles may be excited to contract by galvanism ; nor the 
senseless bullock whose blood is let out, but whose heart con- 
tinues to act. 

If a case should occur in which all muscular actions, even 
those of the minutest capillaries, should cease, and the con- 
scient actions of the nervous system continue, the person 
would appPMr to be dead ; — he would be speechless, pulse- 
less, motionless, and probably, " pale as death." But if by- 
standers knew that he continued to think and sense, or even 
think, they would not say such person is dead ; this, howev- 
er, they could not know ; and the person would be dead to 
the bystanders, but not dead as it respects hnnself. Where- 



371 

as every person is dead, for the time being, as it respects 
himself, whenever the ccnscient actions of his nervous system 
cease. In every case of asphyxy from drowning, hanging, in- 
haling irrespirable gases, from lightning a«d intense cold ; 
and in every case of compressed brain in which conscient ac- 
tions do not occur from strength of sensorial tendencies, and 
cannot be excited by impressions upon the senses ; and we 
may add, in every case of natural sleep, — the person is dead, 
for the time being, so far as it respects himself, whatever may 
be the muscular actions that take place. 

Sleep, eilSier morbid or natural, is a temporary death, as 
it respects the individual who sleeps — he is none the less 
dead to himself, for the time being, because he may think 
and sense again before his body is decomposed. What would 
often prove to be only a temporary death, if proper means 
were used to bring the nervons system again into an active 
state, proves a sleep to the hour of reorganization or resurrec- 
tion, merely for want of a surgeon with his instruments, or 
even a pair of bellows to bring the soul back again into the 
brain ! Death, a thing often personified, is not an old dry- 
bones walking to and fro the earth, and up and down in it, 
striking sick folks ; but merely a dead state of organized be- 
ings. 

After the animal system has undergone such changes that 
its physiological proportie> no longer exist, or in other words, 
after it has undergone such changes that it cannot be excited 
"into action by natural means, it soon undergoes still further 
changes, called chemical ; but it is no more mysterious that 
it does so, than that a barrel of beer should turn sour, after 
undergoing the process of fermentation, and sutFering some 
other slight changes. The expression, that life, or the laws 
of the vital principle, control the laws of chemistry or of 
chemical actions, if not so much mere nonsense, is at least a 



372 

yery figurative expression, which we trust will no more de- 
ceive ever weak heads. 

Dying, though often spoken of as an act, is more properly 
the cessation of vital actions ; and the imnicdiaie cause of 
dying is not the cessation of vital actions, for this is dying; 
and the same thing cannot be both the cause and the thing 
caused: the immediate cause of dying is, in every instance^ 
some change in the condition of nervous system. This change 
is generally apparent on dissection, though not always, for the 
nervous system may suffer some change in its nice, physio- 
logical organization, which destroys its sensibility ; and 
yet not be cognizable by the imperfect senses of the anato- 
mist. But when this change of the nervous system is not ob- 
vious, and often when it is, a change in some other important 
organ, or in the fluids of the system, may be discovered. These 
changes are often considered as causes of the death ; but 
they are to be classed among the remote causes : they are 
not the immediate cause of the conscient actions ceasing. 

In the few instances — if any there be — in which it may 
be said that persons die of old age, the changes which take 
place in their systems, are very gradual ; but they are none 
the less real on this account. You can no more make a phy- 
sician believe that death ever takes place without some mor- 
bid change of the system, as its cause, than you can make him 
believe that fire will not burn h-m. But the immaterial the- 
ologists have not yet decided, tha? I know of, whether a man 
dies because the soul quits the body, or whether he dies be- 
cause the body is disordered, and the soul flies off' because the 
body is dead. Should they ever seriously consider this mat- 
ter, ihey will find themselves compelled to admit — if they re- 
gard the evidence which the book of nature furnishes — that a 
derangement of the system is the cause of every death. Were 
it a fact, that mea quite as frequently die instantly, without 



337 

any derangement of the system, as otherwise, it wou^d be 
some small evidence in favor of immaterialism. Nor have 
the immaterialists yet informed us what becomes of the soul, 
and what it is about, during those hours, days, and even weeks 
(if reports be true) in which the body is dead as it respects 
itself, and apparently dead to by-standers — after which time, 
however, it is brought again into a thinking condition, by na- 
tural means. Should they tell us that, during this time, the 
soul remains inactive within the body ; we should be induced 
to ask several other questions, to which they must give ration- 
al answers, before their doctrines will be rendered as clear and 
satisfactory as the doctrines of the materialist. We would not 
insist on their informing us by what means we can ever know 
when the soul has quit the body ; but we would ask them why 
the soul does not continue to think and sense even in if the bo- 
dy be deranged : — we suppose they will contend that it thinks 
and senses after it quits the body ; (if it do not, it is a matter 
of indifFerence whether it go to heaven or hell — it is the sheer- 
est little nothing that ever did exist ;) now if it may thiiik and 
sense v^ithout any body at all, why may it not think when in a 
disordered body ? Is the unextended thing squeezed! or other- 
wise obstructed in its operations ? If it be, why does it not — 
being intelligent — quit the clayey tabernacle, and himt its way 
back — for 1 am sure there is nothing in my head that knows 
the way — to the celestial abodes ? But should the imma- 
terialists tell us that in case of asphyxy, the soul quits the bo- 
dy ; we should like to know how inflating the lungs, warming 
and rubbing the body, applying volatiles to the nostrils fee*, 
bring it back again. — Oh, ye men of mysteries, clear up these 
difficulties, or the groundless hypothesis which gives rise to 
them, will not much longer be believed by men of sound braias. 
^he pains of death are undoubtedly much less iha.i most 
persons have been led to beheve. To die, is to go to sleep ; 



374 

and we doubt not that most persons who live to the age of 
puberty, undergo ^eiifold nnore misery in thinking ot death, 
than in the simple act of dying; nay, tenfold more misery 
than they would, did they but enteriani correct views con- 
cerning this change. — Error, of whatever descriptiooj inva- 
riably gives rise to more human misery than happiness: it is 
the bane of human felicity — the black devil of the earth. Me- 
thinks I can see that the doctrine of soul, or we will say, the 
ignorance of men concerning the constitution of organized be- 
ings, has been the root of more human misery than would be 
endured, if every human being now living, were put to death 
by hours of excruciating torture ; and yet it has been grave- 
ly asked, what good can result from diffusing the principles 
of materialism, admitting them to be true ! 

In all cases of dying, the individual sufTers no pain after 
the sensibility of his nervous system is destroyed ; for after 
this, there is neither sensation nor thought. We say, no 
thought, for we have every reason to believe that when the 
sensorium has suffered such change that conscient actions 
cannot be excited in it, such actions will occur merely by 
virtue of its tendencies. Novv the sensibility of the nervous 
system is often destroyed without much, and sometimes with- 
out any, previous pain. Those who are struck dead by a 
stroke of lightning, those who are decapitated with one blow 
of the axe, and those who are instantly destroyed by a crush 
of the brain, experience no pain at all, in passing from a state 
of life to a dead state. One moment's expectation of being 
thus destroyed, far exceeds in misery the pain during the act. 
Those who faint away, on having a little blood taken from the 
arm, or on any other occasion, have already endured all the 
misery they ever would in this world, did thej not again re- 
vive. Th^se who die of fevers, and most other diseases, suf- 
fer their gi'eatest pain, as a general thing, hours, or even 



375 

days, before they expire. The sensibility of their nervous 
system bt^comes gradually dinrunished, their pains become 
less and less acute under the same exciting cause ; and at the 
moment when their friends think them in the greatest distress, 
they are more at ease than they have been for days previous : 
their disease, as far as it respects their feelings, begins to act 
upon them like an opiate. Indeed, many are already dead, 
as it respects themselves, when ignorant bystanders are much 
the most to be pitied, not for the loss of their friend, but for 
their sympathising anguish. Those diseases which destroy 
life without immediately affecting the condition of the nervous 
system, give rise to more pain than those that do affect this 
system, so as to impair its sensibility. The most painful 
deaths which human beings inflict on each other^ are produ- 
ced by the rack and the faggot. The halter is not so cruel as 
either of these, but more savage than the axe. Horror and 
pain considered, it seems to us as though we should choose a 
narcotic to either. 

We think that most persons have been led to regard dying 
as a much more painful change than it generally is, tirst, be- 
cause they have found by what they have experienced in 
themselves and seen in others, that sentient beings often strug- 
gle when in distress •, hence struggling is to them a sign, an 
invariable sign, of distress. But we may remark, that strug- 
gles are very far from being invariable signs of distress ; mus- 
cular action and consciousness are two distinct things, often 
existing separately ; and we have abundance of reason to be- 
lieve, that in a great proportion of cases, those struggles of a 
dying man which are so distressing to behold, are as entirely 
independent of consciousness, as the struggles of the recently 
decapitated fowl. A second reason why most persons are led 
to regard dying as a very painful change, is, because they 
know that men often endure great pain without dying, and, 



370 

forgetting that like causes produce like effects cnly under sim- 
ilar circumstances, they infer that life cannot be destroyed 
without still greater pain. Third, because they believe that 
there is sonnething in man, which is the subject of as vivid 
consciousness when he is dying, and alnnost dead, as when he 
is in health. 

Most persons, and especially young persons, desire to live, 
and this is as much as to say, they desire not to die ; but the 
horrors of death, which render a considerable portion of the 
majority of men's lives much less happy than they otherwise 
would be, are not owing to this desire to live. Nor do they 
consist but in part in dread of the pains of death : they consist 
mostly in doleful ideas of a future slate, fear of endless and 
most desperate punishments, &c. but if this share of human 
misery be thought a blessing to mankind, we may thank igno- 
rance and her big baby superstition for it. The materiahst, 
who has been so fortunate as not to have his reason shackled, 
looks on death with much more composure than any one else, 
excepting a very small proportion of mankind who have been 
lead to believe, confidently, that they shall be extremely hap- 
py in a future state. 

The materialist who has studied the book of nature, and 
drawn his conclusions from it, regarding the books of men as 
erroneous in all points in which they do not agree with it^ 
says to himself: If a body be organized at some future period, 
possessing the same sensorial tendencies which 1 possess, / of 
course, shall again exist. And if I do, I shall neither be ex- 
tremely happy nor extremely miserable. The same mer- 
ciful and unchangeable God, who governs now, will gov- 
ern then, and we have no reason to suppose that his 
laws w ill he altered. He will not, with a vengeance, punish, 
for deeds done in this life, any being who was involuntarily 
born into the world, with passions to spur him to actien, and 



377 

50 circumstanced Ihat there was a cause for every action of 
his, whether muscular or nervous. But as in this life if 1 stray 
from the path of rectitude, there will always be sometliing to 
prick ; and the more I go astray, the more miserable shall I 
be. 

But if I donot exist in a future state, T shall not care a straw ; 
for when I am dead, I shall not exist; and it is absurd to sup- 
pose that a being will care, which does not exist. When the 
body, which the construction of our languat^e compels me to 
speak of as though it were something besides myself, calling 
it my hody^ is in the grave ; there will be no thinking /, oiFia 
some other region, thinking about the cold grave, and anxious- 
ly awating the day of resurrection. No ; my thoughts of an- 
nihilation are far from being horrible to me — they are not 
blended with the strange notion of caring about it, after I am 
dead; and 1 have never been cajoled into the belief that I 
shall be extremely happy hereafter, like one who may have 
been led to believe thac he deserves, and will indeed draw, a 
largesum, because he has bought a ticket. Consequently my 
reason goes abroad without meeting with information which 
blasts my fondestj^zrme^/ expectations. 



■00- 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Ail .Attempt to show that Materialism is as consistent zoith Chris- 
tianity as Jmmaterialism, 

We presume to state in terms unqualified, that whoever 
maintains that Christianity is opposed to materialism, virtual- 
ly maintains that Christianity is opposed to truth. Christian*- 

48 



378 

ity must accord wi<h materialism or she caPxnot have a pass- 
age ; for truth will go when lie once gets under weigh. 

Whether it be possible to reconcile either materialism or 
immaterialism with Christianity, we cannot with certainty say, 
until the diverse religious sects professing Christianity agree 
among themselves what Christianity consists in, and inform us 
of their decision. However, we can proceed to show, that, - 
according to our views of christianitj, materialism is as con- 
sistent with it as immaterialism. 

According to our views, the sentiment that whatever thinks 
and senses is something distinct from the nervous system, and 
may sense and think independent of it, is not essentia! to Chris- 
tianity. This being the case, certain doctrines, of which this 
sentiment is not one, may constitule Christianity; and who- 
ever believes in these doctrines may be a christian, though at 
the same time a materialist. And again, according to our 
views, the idea that the bible writers were inspired with a pre- 
ternatural share of scientific knowledge, as of Astronomy, 
Anatomy, Physiology, &c., is not essential to Christianity. 

Now if it be admitted that neither of these sentiments or 
doctrines, are essential to Christianity, th<it4^hey constitute no 
essential part of it ; then are materialism and christinity com- 
patible. For, admitting it is the nervous system, which sens- 
es and thinks, it does not follow from this but that every chris- 
tian doctrine, may be true. 

But if the doctrine of soul be essential to Christianity, so 
that there is no Christianity without it ; then it is as evident 
that Christianity is faSse as that the earth turns on its own ax- 
is. And if the idea that the bible writers were ins[)ired with 
true knowledge concerning physical subjects, (and the consti- 
tution of man and other animals is or*e of thest ,) be essential 
to Christianity \ then shall we prove that Christianity is false, 



379 

when we prove that these writers were not thus inspired ; as 
we now proceed to do. 

'' And God made the firmament and divided the waters 
which were under the firmameJjt from the waters which were 
above the firmanient. And God called the firmament heaven* 
And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered 
together into one place, and let the dry land appear." — Gen, 
ch. 1st, V. 7, 8, 9, '' And God created two great lights, and 
the stars also^ and set ihem in the firmament of heaven,''"' — Gen. 
ch. 1st, V. 16, 17. '^ And the windows of heaven were open- 
ed, and the rain was upon the earth fortj days and forty 
nights." — Gen. ch. 7, v. 11, 12. '' And the windows of heav- 
en were stopped, and the rain from her.ven was restrained." 
— Gen. ch. 8, v. 2. These passages show clearly that who- 
ever wrote the book of Genesis, believed that the blue and 
seemingly arched canopy over our heads, is the firmament of 
heaven ; arid that the sun, moon and stars, are all equi-dis- 
tant from the earth, or at least, that they are all set in this 
archirig canopy, they being all " set in the firmament of heav- 
en," which divides the waters, &c. This is an opinion which 
children and all persons ignorant of astronomy would natu- 
rally entertain. It is clear, also, that this writer believed 
that when it rains, or at least, when it rained in the time of 
the flood, the windows of heaven were opened, and the wa- 
ter " above the firmament" ran down — large streams being 
broken into drops, no doubt, by falling so great a distance. 

Now it is certain that these notions about the firmament ; 
about the sun, moon and stars being set in the firmament ; 
about the windows of heaven which are windows of the fir- 
mament, (for " God called the firmament heaven ;") about 
the water above the firmament, that is, up in heaven, where 
the God or Gods of the old and new testaaients dwell ; about 



380 

the rain, &:c. &c. are hhc ; and of course the writer that en- 
tertained them did not receive them bv inspiration. 

Perhaps it will be said that ihis writer^' expressed himself 
in figurative language, and that we do not know but that he 
thought correctlv. Very well, we will then say, and with 
quite as good reason, that whoever has spoken ofa^ow/in 
the bible, spoke figuratively ; and we have no more reason 
to suppose he believed the word means any thuig distinct 
from the nervous system, than we have that this writer be- 
lieved the firmament of heaven and the windows thereof, to 
be real beings. 

In the ninth chapter, thirteenth verse, of Genesis, we read 
" I will set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of 
a covenant between me and the earth." 

Before we offer any remarks concerning this passage, we 
would observe, it is impossible for us to believe (and who is 
to blame for it,) that the Author of worlds on worlds, ever 
descended in a cloud of fire, smoke, or any other vehicle, to 
this earth, and conversed with a man ! What should w^e think 
of any man nowadays, if he should gravely assert that he had 
been up to the top of Mount Tom and seen and conversed 
with God Almighty ? Why is it that men will sooner believe 
a whole string of big stories than a single one ? If Moses ever 
saw and heard what his unknown historian has declared that 
he did, it is much more rational to suppose that actions oc- 
curred in his optic and auditory nerves wiihout impressions, 
than that the Deity ever paid liim a visit and conversed with 
him. From whnt we know of the G6d of nature, he bnngs 
about his ends by the most simple means ; and if he be un- 

* We say this writpr, for it is altogether unknown by whom the 
book of Genesis and the tour followiitf,' books were written; con- 
vinced AP ,ire that ih.-y were not written by Moses. See Paine's 
A^e of Kedsou, Second Part. 



381 

changeable, as the book of nature declares, and we believe, it 
is but reasonable to suppose he always did so. 

From the passage last quoted from Genesis, and from oth- 
ers immediately connected with it, it is evident that the writer 
considered the rainbow as a thing that made its appearance 
for the first time, after the tlood, as a token of a covenant, fee, 
whereas it is a natural phenomenon which must always occur 
when rays of light from the sun are reflected by drops of rain 
in a particular manner ; and which must necessarily have ta- 
ken place, the unalterable laws of nature being such, before 
the flood as well as now. 

What we read in the tenth chapter of Joshua, twelfth and 
thirteenth verses, about the sun and moon standing still — tak' 
en in connection with other passages in the the bible which 
speak of the earth as standing on pillows, — shows clearly 
that the bible writers, some of them at least, were so very ig- 
norant of astronomy as to believe that the sun and nioon move 
round the earth, instead of the earth turning round on its own 
axis. 

Another erroneous notion entertained by the bible writers, 
is of a physiological nature — it relates to the constitution of 
man ; it is the notion that man consists of fnateriai organs and 
an inconceivable something else superadded, a something that 
scuds out of him when his organs cease to act, and steers off, 
or by angles is carried off, to heaven ; and enjoys pleasure and 
endures pain independent of the body. 

It is true that with the exception of man, (he writers of the 
Old and New. Testaments, seldom had occasion to discover 
their opinions concerning the nature of things ; but from what 
little they have said concerning natural objects, it is evident 
that they knew no more about them than thousands of other 
ukju of their age ; it is evident they were not inspired 
with a knowledge of the nature and constitution of organic or 



382 

inorganic bodies. Consequently, if the opinion that they 
were, be essential to Christianity then is rhristianity false. 
But if it be admitted that they were not thus inspired, ail they 
have written about souls amounts to no more than if the same 
had been written by any other man of their age. To enquire 
whether a man has a sou! or not is to inquire into the constitu- 
tion of man ; and this is a subject that belongs to that branch 
of physics called physiology. Strange indeed it is, very 
strange, if the opinions of divines concerning the constitution 
of man, are to be regarded in preference to the opinions of 
physicians. 

It may be asked if Christ did not often speak as though man 
possesses a soul. We grant that those who have written ac- 
counts of his birth, death, and doings, have written that he did. 
But what then ? was Christ born into this world, to teach men 
physiology? Admitting that he, though the son of a carpen- 
ter's wife, knew every thing and could do almost any thing, it 
does not follo^v that he must work a miracle in every man's 
brain to convince him that he has no soul, or convince h?m so 
by a long reasoning process. Before the science of chemis- 
try had taught men that new combinations give rise to new 
properties it would have required an octavo volume of great- 
er size than this, to convince them that they are composed 
entirely of matter. It was an object of Jesus to make 
men believe certain doctrines which he delivered unto them; 
and it would have operated much against him, to have con- 
tradicted an opinion so firmly and universally believed, as 
was the opinion that each man has a soul in his head : unless 
he convinced the people that this opinion is erroneous : a 
thing which he could not do, short of working a miracle in 
every man's brain, or of a long reasoning process. 

Now as it was not an object of Jesus to teach men what 
they are made of, but to teach them their duty towards their 



38S 

Maker and towards each other ; and to teach them that they 
will come to life at some future period, and be punished or 
rewarded according to their behaviour before they die; in- 
stead of contradicting their opinions concerning ihesr consti- 
tution, he spoke to his hearers in the same language that they 
used; he could not otherwise converse with them. Hence 
according to Matthew, chap, x, v. 28, he said '' Fear not tberei 
which kill the body but are not able to kill the soul, but rather 
fesr him which (s able to destroy both soul and body in hell." 
But had all his hearers been materialists — none of the lan- 
guage of immateriahsm bemg in use — we may well suppose 
he would have said : Fear not them who are able to kill the 
body only; but rather fear him who is able to destroy thy 
present existence, and render the future miserable. 

Matthew was undoubtedly an immaterialist ; but Luke 
writes more like a materialist. Luke informs us thai Christ 
said : *' I say unto you, my friends, Be not afraid of them that 
kill the body, and after that have no more that ihey can do : 
but I will forewarn you whom you shall fear : Fear him, which 
after he hath killed, hath power to cast into hell ; yea, I say 
unto you, fear him." Not a word is here said about a soul ; 
but that Luke here had reference to the same saying of Jesus, 
that Matthew had in the passage we have quoted from his 
tenth chapter, no one can doubt, after comparing together this 
chapter of Matthew and the twelfth chapter of Luke. 

We do not know that Luke was a materialist ; but he does 
not appear to have been very friendly to the word soul. la 
the whole of his book containing 24 chapters, it occurs in 
only four instances ; and in only one of these does it appear 
that Jesus used it, in an expression strictly his own. In the 
first instance, chap. 1, v. 46, it occurs in an expression of Ma- 
ry — " And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord." A 
very figurative expression this. What ! a woman's soul mag- 



384 

nify God Almighty ? Surelj, it can mean nothing more than 
that she rejoiced and felt thai.kful because the " Lord had re- 
garded her low estate." In the second instance, chap. 10, 
V. 27, a lawyer tells Jesus, " It is written in the law, Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with all 
ihy soul^ and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind," 
This strong but figurative passage means nothing more than, 
you shall love the Lord as much as you can ; and we defy 
any man, be he a necessarian or not, to love him less. In 
the twelfth chapter it is written that Jesus spake a parable ; 
and in this parable it is represented that a rich man addressed 
his soul, saying, " Soul, thou hast much good laid up for ma- 
ny years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." '' And 
God said unto him. Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be re- 
quired of thee." But what sort of thing did this man take 
his soul to be, when he tells it to eat, drink, &c. ? Surely, no- 
thing more nor less than his person, his visible extended per- 
son, including of cocrse both eating and drinking organs, — 
But as to the expression, " This night shall thy sou! be re- 
quired of thee," it means nothing more nor less than, this 
night shall thy life be required of thee ; and this means noth- 
ing more than, you shall this night die, that is, your organs 
shall cease to act. This is the third instance in which the 
word soul is used in Luke. The fourth instance occurs in 
the xxi. chap, and 19th verse : " In your patience, possess 
your souls." Here it is represented that Jesus used the word 
in an expression strictly his own. But from this passage we 
have just as much reason to infer that a marl's patience is some- 
thing distinct from his body, as that his soul is. The expres- 
sion is so very ambiguous, that we scarcely venture to offer 
an opinion as to the sense in which it ought to be understood 
— it would have been less so, had it been, in your souls pos- 
sess your patience. However, considering what goes before 



385 

and after it, we are inclined to think it ought to be understood 
as follows : In ail the trials and perplexities you may meet 
with, keep cool and collected ; or, have patience, so as not 
to be discouraged and vexed, so as not to be dispossessed of 
your intellectual powers, by the difficulties you may meet 
with. — Surely, if the writings of Luke had been the only ones 
of Christ's historians that were voted genuine, and we had 
never seen those of the other Evangelists, we should have had 
no reason to suppose that Jesus was an immaterialist tVom 
any thing he said concerning souls. Admitting that Jesus of- 
ten spoke of a soul, it is no sort of evidence that he believed 
it to be any thing distinct from the body. Scarcely a day 
passes but that materialists use the word soul or mind as 
though it were something distinct from the body, or at least, 
as though it were something besides the body ; and if, twenty 
years hence, their conversation should be written in a book, 
it would be just as much evidence to future generations that 
these materialists were immateriahsts, as the few clauses in 
the New Testament which represent that Jesus spoke of a 
soul, are that he believed m the existence of a feeling think- 
ing thing that scuds away from a man when he dies. 

Perhaps it may be said that there are sayings of Jesus 
which favor immaterialism, although they contain nothing 
express concerning souls. According to Luke, he said to 
one of the malefactors who was put to death with him : " Ve- 
rily I say unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with me in para- 
dise." But what are we to understand by this ? Do not the 
pronouns I, me, and myself, mean the same thing ? and did 
not Jesus, by paradise, here mean heaven, the place to which 
it is said he ascended, the place where his Father and the an- 
gels dwell ? The first question must be answered in the athr- 
mative, and if the second be not, we wi^Ji our learned divines 

would inform us something about this paradise. But if par- 

49 



380 

adise be heaven, the place where it is represented that tlie 
God of the bible dwells ; then Christ did not go to paradise 
for several da}'s after he was crucified. For after he came 
to life, he appeared to his disciples, and said unto them,^ " Be- 
hold nay hands and my feet, that it is 1 myself, handle me 
and see ; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me 
have.'- This much to show that Jesus did not consider him- 
self as consisting in something which has not flesh and bones. 
(Genuine materialism this.) Now according to John, chap. 
XX. V. 27, Jesus said to Mary, " 1 am not yet ascended to my 
Father;" and this was several days after he was crucified. 
From all this, it appears that the malefactor, soul nor body, 
could not be in paradise with Jesus the same day, as it respects 
time, that he was put to death 5 for Jesus himself was not 
there. However, the christian materialist finds no difficulty 
in getting along with this : he says that when a man dies, he 
does indeed die ; of course, if he he in the grave ten thousand 
years, it is no time at all to him •,- — every man passes from 
this life to the future in the twinkling of an eye as it respects 
himself, though millions of years may elapse between his 
death and reorganization. Consequently the malefactor will 
be in paradise the day he died, as it respects himself, should 
be not be there for thousands of years to come. 

What Jesus said in a parable concerning the rich man and 
Lazarus, has been considered by some as favoring immateri- 
ahsm. But the rich man died and was buried, and m hell he 
lifted up his eyes and saw Lazarus in Abraham's bosom ; and 
cried out to Abraham to let Lazarus come and dip his fingers 
in water, and cool his tongue. Now in the name of common 
sense, how comes it that an unexl ended soul has eyes and a 
tongue in hell ? and why did not the old fellow help himself 
to water if it were handy ? and bow large must Abraham's 
bosom be to hold Lazarus ? We should think the immaterial- 



387 

ists had belter keep this passage in the back ground, if they 
do not wish to be puzzled. Will they tell us that when the 
soul quits the body and goes to heaven or hell, it becomes ex- 
tended, and has the parts of a man ? Let them say so ; but 
this would be nothing more nor less than creating a material 
man out of an immaterial — nolhing ! — The christian material- 
ist may admit, if he pleases, that when men die, men of like 
sensorial tendencies are uistantly — as it respects time — or- 
ganized in some distant region ; but why, then, the '* resur- 
rection of the dead^^'' which is certainly the most important, 
and we should think an essential doctrine of Christianity ? Is 
there going to be two sets of human beings precisely alike ? 
Methinks there would be much contention if they should ever 
get together ; and perhaps some mistakes among the men and 
women ! 

Immediately after noticing the third instance in which the 
word soul occurs in Luke, we meant to have remarked that 
the same Greek word which is translated soul in the New 
Testament, is, in as much as thirty instances in this Testa- 
ment, translated life. 

Thus much have we written to show that materialism is 
consistent with Christianity, We shall now proceed to show 
that immaterialism is not consistent with Christianity ; after 
which we trust all will be convinced that materialism is at 
least as consistent with Christianity as immaterialism. 

As intimated in the fore part of this chapter, we shall not 
decide dogmatically what Christianity is ; for this would be 
to decide a question concerning which the different sects cal- 
ling themselves christians, are at war. It would be to decide 
a question in which we do not feel at all interested : — we can 
only say, we wish those doctrines the least success which 
make men the worst neighbors and citizens. We proceed 
according to our own nations of Christianity, 



388 

According to our views, the doctrine of ihe resurrection of 
the dead h the rnn ;l important, and an essential doctrine of 
Christianity. Williout this resurrection we hold there is no 
future existence — no future rewards and punishments. Con- 
sequently, whoever does not helic ve in this, is not strictly a 
christian, though he may be a virtuous man. — There were 
many virtuous men before the christian era ; perhaps more in 
proportion to the whole human family and their unenlighten- 
ed state than there now are. 

JNow if the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, be es- 
sential to Christianity, then is immateriahsm, or the doctrine 
of soul, altogether at variance with Christianity. For accor- 
ding to this doctrine, the man never dies ; that thinking, feel- 
ing being which constitutes the man — that being, in the same- 
ness of which the immatcrialists place personal identity, never 
dies. To be sui-e it quits its old material tenement, but this 
is nothing but changing its place. Therefore the many passa- 
ges in the New Testament which speak of a man dying, and 
of his resurrection from the dead — an exemplification of 
which we have in the death and resurrection of Jesus — are 
diametrically opposed to immaterialism. 

Is not death spoken of as a sleep, that is an unconscious state ? 
But acccording; to immaterialism, the man is not in an uncon- 
scious state after the material machiiie ceases to bieathe ; un- 
less it be admitted that the soul is unconscious after it quits the 
body; but if the soul be in an unconscious state from the time 
it quits the body to the re-organization thereof, we wish to 
know for what reason any religious sect contends for its exis- 
tence. An unconscious, unextended thing must be the sheer- 
est ht.'le nothing that ever did exist — quite too insignificant 
for men to contend about. If 1 have a soul which can neither 
think nor sense independent of the body, then let my body be 
well off, and 1 care not what becomes of my soul. 



. , 339 

Again. Do the scriptures inform us of any place for dead 
men, or, if you please, for men after they get out of their 
bodies, except heaven^ hell, and the grave ? Now if men do 
not in fact die, but only scud away from the machines by 
which they have operated, and in the top part of which they 
have dwelt ; they must go to heaverj or hell (or aught we kiio^ 
to the contrary. But i[ all go to heaven, then many wicked 
are in heaven, and will remain there perhaps for thousands of 
years to conne ; but if all go to hell, then many righteous men 
are in helL tYieve to remain until the day of resurrection and 
judgment. But if they arc sorted out as they fly away from 
their machines, why the lina! day of judgment that is spoken 
of? nnd vs'hy are all the wicked men called out of hell, united 
with their old machines, and sent back to hell again ? Poor 
machines ! 1 pity you ; you are not to blame for any thing you 
have ever done — ^you only obeyed the commands of your con- 
troller. — Again, if the soul rr;ay be conscious independent of 
the body, it may be the subject of rewards and punishments ; 
and for what purpose is the body re-organized ? The God of 
nature brings about his ends by the cheapest means; and ac- 
cording to the doctrine of soui we can see no use for the body 
in the celestial regions, unless it be to sing hymns with — no 
connubial bliss there, at least with those that die old bachel- 
lors! Surely, the doctrine of soul, and the doctrine of ihe re- 
surrection of the dead, and a day of judgment — a day when 
all shall be judged, and sentenced to their future abodes, are 
altogether at variance : they cannot be made to harmonize. 
But not so with materialism and the doctrine of resurrection, 
and one day of judgment for all men. The materialist says 
that all men appear at the bar of God, the moment they die, 
as it respects tkemsthes ; and yet although men die at dif- 
ferent periods of time, they all appear at the bar of God on 
one and the same day rr? it respects time. He says the body 



39Q 

must be re-organized because there is no future existence 
without it; and it is the body that is punished and rewarded, 
for it is the body that acted—acted as independently as any 
thing can that is governed by the laws of nature. He says 
the body may be organized out of any matter, for all that is 
necessary to constitute the same person, to all intents and 
purposes, is to have the same looking body, posses^slng the 
same sensorial tendencies. 

It is a little curious that materialists must be cried down 
hy some christians, when they maintain the only doctrine con- 
cerning the constitution of man, that can be made to harmo- 
nize with Christianity. 

Christiani!y is not to be proved or disproved by our deci- 
sion concerning th^ nature of that which thinks, unless the 
doctrine of soul he essential to Christianity. The present writer 
was a firm materialist years before he disbelieved so many 
of the christian doctrines, that it would be hypocrisy in him 
to pretend to believe in Christianity. But he now feels the 
same moral obligations towards his fellow creatures that he 
ever did, and is much more happy in his thoughts concern- 
ing death and a future existence, than formerly. — Oh truth ! 
Thou art fair and lovely ; there is symmetry in all thy parts ; 
and he that knows thee, is not cold and hot, hot and cold, 
alternately \ — he is not distressed with fears and doubts at 
one time, and flushed with expectations of unnatural joys at 
another. Thou causest peace in one's own breast, peace in 
neighborhoods, and peace between nations. Blood may be 
shed in the cause of the adversary ; but thou wilt ultimately 
cor.quer with no other weapon than the pen ! 

Brfore closing this chapter, we make some extracts from a 
pamphlet which we have recently received, entitled '' The 
ScsiiPTURK Doctrine of Materialism." It is written by a 
masterly pen ; but the author is to be reprehended by every 



391 

friend of (ruth and intellectual freedonn, for not putting his 
name to it. In making these extracts, we shall not add any 
words of our own except in brackets, and the authors own 
words will not appear in the form of quotations, that the read- 
er may the more easily understand what words are his, and 
what the words of writers from whom he makes extracts. 

After this, can it be said, tha^ the separate existence of an 
immortal soul is the doctrine of Christ ? I am lost in utter as- 
tonishment at the presumptuous hardihood that can state this 
doctrine as an essential article of the christian faith ! at the 
impudent intolerance that can cry down a man's character 
and standing in society — can interdict him like the banished 
of old, from tire, water and shelter — because examining Scrip- 
ture tor himself, he cannot conscientiously accept as divine 
truth, the metaphysical reveries of Caivinistic theology ! 

The question is not, is there any text in the bible that seems 
to countenance the notion of a soul, (for the bible was trans- 
lated by persons who took that doctrine for granted;) — the 
question is, what is the general tenor of the doctrine on the 
subject laid down by Jesus Christ : does Ae countenance it? 
The apostles wrote and spoke ver) tiguratively, and frequent- 
ly in conformity and allusion to the previous notions of those 
they were addressmg. To establish the doctrine of a soul as 
a Christian doctrine, do not refer me to a few texts that seem 
to countenance it ; you must shew it me plainly, clearly, and 
undoubtedly laid down, explained, and urged by Christ him- 
self: and that I think cannot be done from the Evangelists. 
All else is evidence so inferior as to have little weight on the 
question. 

All persons conversant with the Scripture, know, that the 
various and discordant tenets of metaphysical Christianity are 
founded, asserted, and denied on <he license of (igurative ex- 
pression used by the apostles, and principally by St. Paul. 
In this war of words 1 desire to take no part, and 1 therefore 
appeal exclusively to the gospels. 

Of the opinions of the ancient fathers, 

I am not possessed of the means of examining and referring 
to the original works of the fathers, as they are called. 1 
must therefore be content with referring to some sunuiiary. 
Such a one Dr. Priestly has given ; but J am aware his an- 



o92 

thority m;iy be objected to. Lewis Ellis Dupin and Lard- 
ner have not attended to this subject as a separate Question, 
and Lardners quotations are very partial. The only author 
of repute who has examined all the writings oCthe Christian 
fathers with this view, is Beausobre, in his history of Mani* 
cheisiii : an aut'nor universally regarded as among the fairest 
and best qualified of modern days. He too is cited by Priest- 
ly, by Rees, and o,ihers. 

To avoid aU reasonable objection, I referred to the article 
Immaterialism in the larger French Encjclopedie, manifestly 
written by one who is not a materialist. 1 translate briefly 
from that article'; stating however that his representation 
will coincide with that of iVL Beausobre. 

" Some moderns suspect that as Athanagoras admitted a 
spirit in the formation of the universe, he was acquainted with 
spirituality, and did not adniiit a corporeal Deity, like almost 
all the other philosophers. Bat by the word spirit {pneuma) 
the Greeks and Romans equally understood a subtile matter, 
extremely dilated, intelligent indeed, but extended, and con- 
sisting of parts. I51 elFect, how can they believe that the 
Greek philosophers had any idea of a substance purely spiri- 
tual, when it IS clear that all the primitive fathers of tlie church 
made even God Almighty corporeal ; and their doctrine was 
perpetuated in the Greek church even to later times, and was 
never renounced by the Roman church till the time of St. 
Augustiije," (about six hundred years after Christ.) 

The author of the article proceeds, b}- means of quotations 
from their works, to show that the following fathers were 
malerialists, viz. Origen^ whom Jerom reproaches for his no- 
tion th^t God himself was material ; Tertullian, who wro'e a 
book De Anima expressly to prove the mortality and materi- 
ality of the human soul ; Arnobius ; St. Justin; Tatian ; St. 
Clement of Alexandria ; Lactantius; St. Hilarius-; St. Greg- 
ory Nazianzenus ; St. Gregory Nyssenus ; St. Ambrose ; 
Cassian; and tinally John of Thessalouica, who, at theSev- 
enth Council, pronounced it as an opinion traditionally de- 
livered by St. Athanasiiis, St. Basil, '.\m\ St. Meihodiu*, that 
neither angels, demons, nor human souls, were disengaged 
from matter. The writer forgot l\Ielito, bishop of Sardis ; 
but here is a list quite long enough. It proves nothing, ex- 
cept that in the early ages of the Christian church, and for 
near six hundred years. Materialism was not heresy, but quite 



39S 

otherwise. Indeed, St. Austin says, that he himself was foi 
a long time of this opinion ; owing to his difficulty of conceiv- 
ing the pure spirituahty of God himself. — Are these metaphy- 
sics of any use or value to a Christian, on the one side or the 
other ? I consider them as vain speculations, unproductive of 
practical benefit. 

The Apostles' Creed of uncertain composition, but ancient, 
requires us to hoid an essential article of the Christian faith. 
What ? the resurrection of the soul ? No. " the resurrection 
of the body, and the life everlasting." Amen. 

That the doctrine of the non-existence of a separate immaterial 
Snul^ distinct from the human body, and disjoined from it at 
deaths is a doctrine published and avowed by dignitaries of 
the church of England, 

I apply this to the well meaning, but not well instructed 
portion of my fellow citizens. I am not about to prove my 
point by an appeal to the bench of bishops. But 1 say that 
doctrine is ijot Atheism, Deism, or Infidelity, which some of 
the bench of bishops avow, which others doubt about, and 
which none complain of as heretjca! or dangerous. 

Dr. Edmund Law, Arch Deacon of Carlisle, Master of Pe- 
ter's College in the Uiiiversity of Cambridge, (a seminary for 
finishing the educatiotj of young men.) wrote a treatise on the 
nature and end. of death. To the third edition of this work, 
now before me, publi>hed in 1775, he added an appendix oq 
the meaning of the original words, translated 50w/ and spirit 
in the Holy Scriptures; showing that no part of the bible 
gave countenance to the doctrine of a separate soul, orof aa 
intermediate state of being beiween d^ath and judgment. He 
^refers to Bishop Sherlock, the Rev, Mr. T.^ylor of Norwich} 
and Mr. Haller, in the following close to that appendix. 

Extract Jrom the Appendix to Considerations on the Theory 
of Religion^ by Edmund. Law. D. D. Archdeacon of Carlisle^ 
and Master of St, Peterh College, Cambridge, third edition, 
1755. I4^ith an Appendix concerning the use of the word Soid 
in Holy Scripture^ and the state of death there described. 

*' The intent of this appendix, containing an examination 
of all the meanings that the words translated SOUL, in the 
Old or New Testameat, appears to have, is to show that the 

50 



S04 

doctrine of a separate immaterial, immortal soul, is not a 
ChDstiHM doctrine : lha< it is not fairly dediK ihle from tlie 
Christian Scriptures , and it is contrary to their general ten- 
or." Dr. Law, after thissummar} . goes on to sa), page 39S: 
'' 'I'his maj ^ervc for a specimen of such texts as are usually 
alleged on the other side oflhe question ; (viz. by the Imma- 
tenahst.^.) all of which, will 1 beheve, appear even fi^om these 
short remarks upon them, to be either quite foreign to the 
point, or purely figurative ; or lastly, capable of a clear and 
Cfisy s^olution on the principles above mentioned. Nor can 
such ever fairly he opposed to the constant obvious tenor of 
the sacred writirtgs, and that number of plain express passa-* 
ges already cited." . . . page 400. Give me leave, says Dr. 
Law. to subjoin (he sentiments of a very pious and worthy 
person, eminently skilled in Scripture language, the Rev. Mr. 
Taylor, of Norwich, who is, pleased to write as follows : " I 
have parused your papers, &;c. They comprehend two 
poujts ; one point upon the nature of the human soul or spirit. 
so far as revelation gives us any light ; the other concerning the 
state to 7vhich death reduces us. From the collectior) of Scrip- 
tures under the first of these pomts, I think it appears, that no 
man can prove from Scripture that the human soul is a prin- 
ciple which lives, and acts^ and thinks, independent of the 

body Whatever (he metaphysical nature, essence, or 

substance of the soul may be, (wh>ch is altogether unknown 
to us,) it is demonstratively certain that its existence, both in 
the manner and duration of it, must be wholly dependent on 
the will and pleasure of God. God must appoint its connec- 
tion with and dependence on an) other suh,<«tance, both m its 
operations, powers and duration. Ail arguments therefore 
for the natural immortality of the soul, taken from the nature 
of its substance or essence, as if it must exist and act separate 
from the body, because it is of such a suh>*(ance, &:c. are man- 
ifestly vam. if indeed we do find any thing in the faculties 
and operations oflhe mind to which we are conscious, that 
dol'n show it is the will of God, we should exist in a future 
stale, those arguiTjents wdl stand good. But we can never 
prove thai the soul of man is of such a nature that it can and 
must exist, live, thitsk, act, and enjoy, &c. separate from, and 
independent of the body. Ail our present experience shows 
the contrary. The operations of the mind depend constant- 
ly and invariably upon the state of the body, of the brain in 



395 

particular. If some dying persons have a lively use of their 
rational farultics to the very last, it !s because death has in- 
vaded some other part, and the brain remains sound and vig- 
orous. But what is the sense of REVELATION ? Vou have 
given a noble rollectiou of texts, that shew it very clearly. 
The subject yields many practical remarks, and the warmest 
and strongest excitements to piety." 

After this extr;ict from Mr. Taylor's letter. Dr. Law closes 
his appendix in these words : '' But it might look hke beg:<ing 
the question, should 1 draw out all these in form, together 
with the consequences of this doctrine in regard to either Pa- 
pist or Deist, till the doctrine itself, so lojig decried by the 
one, and so often disgraced by the other, shall appear free 
from the prejudices attending il, and be at last understood to 
have a fair foundation in Scripture, by which we Protestants 
process to be determined : and when we have duly examined 
them, may possibly discersi that the natural immortality of the 
human mind is neither necessarily connected with, nor to a Chris' 
iian any proper proof of , a future state of rewards and punish' 
ments.'''' 

After this Dr. Law was raised to the see of Carlisle. 

Dr. Watson, Bishop of Landnlf pnblished a collection of 
tracts for the use of young clergymen. The following is aa 
extract from his preface. 

Extraet from a preface to a collection of Theological Tracts, 
by Richard Watson, D. D. Bishop of Lnndaff. and Regius Pro- 
ftt>sor of Divinitii in the University of Cambridge^ 1785. De- 
dicated to the Queen* 

Page 1 4. 1 5, — '' Want of genuine moderation towards those 
who differ from us in religious opniions, seems to be the most 
unaccountable thing in the world. Any man who ha* any 
religion at all, feels withm himself stronger motive to judge 
right, than you can possibly suggest to him : aud if he judi^es 
wrong, what is fhat to you ? To his own niaster he staiideth 
or falhjth : his wron^ judgment, if it atfect hi^ ovfn salvation, 
cannot affect your;; ! For, in the words of TertuHian, nee alii 
ohesi aut prodest alterius religio. .... Shll you will proba- 
bly rejom, there must beman\ truth* in the Christian religion, 
conterning which no one oujht tohesdate, inasmuch as with- 
out a belief HI them, he cauaol be reputed a Christian — re- 



39G 

pate<I? by wTiom ? by Je«us Christ his Lord and God. or by 
yon ? R;^sh exposito; ^ of points of doubttiii disputation ; ui- 
tolerent fabricators of metaph}f.ira5 creeds, and inconij^^ruous 
systems oi theojogy ! Df^ yon undertpke to measure the ex- 
tent ofany man's underslaiiding except yonr own ; to esti- 
mate the strensj^h and orjgin of his habits of thinking •, to ap- 
preciate his merit or demerit in the use of the talent that God 
has given him, so unerringly, as to pronounce that the behef 
of this or that doctrine is necessary to his salvation ?" 

.... Pa^e 16. — " But there are subjects on which the 
academicorum may be admitted, 1 apprehend without injur- 
ing the foundations of our religion. Such are the questions 
which relate to the power of evil spirits to suspend the laws 
of nature, or to actuate the minds of men ; to the materiality 
or immatermlity of the human soul, to the state of the dead be- 
fore the general resurrection, the resurrection of the same body, 
the duration of future punishments, and many others of the 
samekind,^^ 

It may be remarked that even materialists of former times 
appear to have had a vague notion of somethiiig in a man's 
head, which may properly enough be called soul. But mo- 
dern materialists know of nothing which the word soul can, 
with the least propriety, be used to signify ; and knowing that 
the use of thingless naincs as though they were not such, only 
serves lo keep alive erroneous notions, they make no use of 
the word soul. — They discard it as so much old trumpery in- 
vented in ancient days, of no other use than to blind men's 
eyes, when they are searching after truth. Men are strange- 
ly (ieceived bv words ; they do not seem to regard the pre- 
cept of Locke, "not to fake words for things, nor suppose 
that names in books signify real entities in nature, till d.ey 
can ftam^ clear and a, id distinct ideas of those entities." If 
we cotiid only once get rid of the metaphysical language now 
in use. there *vou!d be no more mystery about the functions 
of a man's head, thaik there is about the operations of a cot- 
tou factory. 



397 

But so far as it respects future existence — so far as it re- 
spects all religious doctrines, nnaterialisnn is materialsni. whe- 
ther we use the word soul or not. And so far as it respects 
religious doctrines, that imniaterialist who should maintain 
that the soul is in an unconscious state when separated from 
the bod) , is on the same footing with ihe materialist. 



'00- 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

On a Future State. 

It is with diffidence we broach the subject before us. It is 
touching an interesting question, the negative or affirmative of 
which, can neither be proved or disproved by any evidence 
that man can draw from the book of nature.*^ 

Those who firmly believe that the bible is the word of God, 
be them materialists or immalerialists, can want no further 

* As we have sp«)ken v( the Book of Nature and of Good's 
BoQK op Nature, ill this work; it mav be well enough to show 
distinctly what we meun by the Book op Nature. We do not 
mean a paper book, written by Dr. M son Good, nor any other 
paper book, but the universe — the created nniverse whos^* author is 
God. It is this book w ic!) teaches ns the power and goodness of 
God ; it is this book which teaches all ajjes -^nd nations the same 
lessons J it is tliis book which teaches us aM ihe physical fa'^ts tiiat 
we know. These are the fiicts which we think over in connection 
with haman statements, when we are said to judge or reason con- 
cerning such statemenis ; and whatever we find to disagree with 
these facts appoais to us irrational, i e. we do not believe it.— And 
we are just fools enough not to be hypocrites — we openly ivow our 
opinions though they may differ from the opinions of those who ex- 
amine only one side of a question. 

from what we ha- e now said, the reader may discover a simila-. 
rity of meaning lu the two following expressions — What reason 
teaches us— What the book nature teaches us. 



398 

assurance of a future existence than what they have in the 
New Testannent. The doctrine of resurrection is thereia 
dearly and expressly avowed ; and if any one want any fur- 
ther evidence of a future existence than what he has in this 
testament, it is clear that he does not firmly believe in the 
christian religion. Yet there are soma who would be glad to 
find evidence of this pleasing doctrine in the book of nature. 
And as there can be no harm in believing in a future slate, 
even if there never will be any such itaie, provided such be- 
lief do not prove a cause of less happiness or more misery in 
this life than we should otherwise experietice, we shall glean 
what evidence we can from the book of nature in favor of it. 

Perhaps we shall remove doubts and fears concerning a fu- 
ture state, as much by showing there is no evidence against 
such state, as by advancing all the arguments we can in favor 
of it. Thai then will be our first object. 

— ■ Really, we know not what to say — we seem 

to lack ideas ; we caimot think of any thing which any man 
is short-sighted enough to bring fisr^vard as an argument against 
a future state of existesice. We think we have shown cor- 
rectly and satisfactorily what personal identity consists in; 
and if we have, such difficulties as might arise before it was 
satisfactorily shown what [>ersonal identity consists in, will not 
now be urged. According to our views it is of no consequence 
what becomes of the matter which composes our bodies at the 
time we die. it matters not if the same identical matter com- 
pose a thousand human bodies in succession, at the time they 
die. We say all that is necessary to constitute the same per- 
son, to all intents and purposes, is a like looking body, w^ith 
like sensorial tendencies, organized out o{any matter. And no 
one who believes in a God, will doubt his power to re-organ- 
Jze, or to organize such bodies at some future period. 

Thai like looking men with like sensorial tendencies as those 



29d 

that died at some former period have not yet been re-organ- 
ized, is no evidence that such men will not be re-organized 
at some future period ; bu( if men who died at some former pe- 
riod, had yet been re-organized to our ceitain knowledge, it 
would be some evidence to us, that other dead men will be re- 
organized. However, the lack of this evidence for a future 
existence, is no evidence against it. Suppose a man should be 
born in the summer, possessing as good a share of knowledge as 
any other man, except what is acquired by experiencing the 
changes of seasons ; would such man, in a few days or weeks, 
judge from what he had experienced that there will be a win- 
ter? would he judge there will be short days, long nights, 
freezing weather and snow upon the ground? He certainly 
would not— judgifig only from what he had witnessed — put- 
ting human testimony aside — he would say there will be only 
warm days, longer than the nights, and the surface of the 
earth will be covered with green vegetables. Yet his having 
never experienced a winter and his judging there will never be 
such a season, would be no evidence that there will be no win- 
ter. So our having never witnessed a re organization of per- 
sons who formerly existed, and all our lack of belief that men 
will be re-organized, are no son of evidence that they never 
will be. 

Ten, fifty, or an hundred thousand years, compared with 
eternity, are as a moment compared with an age. The world 
is yet in its infancy ; it has but just began to be ; but a small 
part of it is yet brought into a state of cultivation ; men have 
not yet arrived to the highest degree of perfection that their 
present natures admit of; they are grossly ignorant and su- 
perstitious compared with what they will be in a few centu- 
ries after intellectual freedom is obtained. These things con- 
sidered, we are very far from having any reason to suppose 
that men would be re-organized and an end to the changeable 



state of things would be put, by this time, if it were the inteii 
tion of the Almighty that they ever will be. 

Now if there be no evidence against a future state ; and ii 
we were to admit that there is no evidence in favor of it, the 
question as to our future existence would conrie under the 
comnnon head of, // may be so, er. // may not. It would be a 
question concerning which we must be opinion-neuter, (here 
being no evidence /or nor against. But if any evidence in 
favor of a future state can be adduced, then have we so much 
reason to beheve in a future state. That some such evidence 
can be gleaned from the book of nature, we shall now attempt 
to show. 

We find that every thing — unless we except man — appears 
to be formed for something beyond its present existence, for 
some other purpose than merely that it may exist. By means 
of the heavenly bodies, the sun, earth, &c. vegetables exist ; 
vegetables give support to animals ; one animal is subservi- 
ent to another, this to another, and so on, up to man. Now 
are we to say that man who is buried ssx feet below the sur- 
face of the earth, is an exception to this rule ?* and are we to 
suppose that the existence of man in this life, is (he highest 
and ultimate object of God ? Is the God of nature a God that 
is so far pleased vyith the groans, the toys, the songs and sup- 
plications of mortal men, that these are the ultimate objects 
for which he created and suffers to exist, the stupendous uni- 
verse ? We can see no higher objects if the present existence 
of man be his last. 



* Should it be said that there is notbing in the nature of things 
which requires ihnt man "jhould be buried to such a depth as not to 
enrich the soil, or be lood for other animals : and if he were not 
thus buried, he, like all other beinjjs, would answer some purpose 
beyond his present existence ; it niiirht be replied that he would 
then answer no purpose superior to present human existence. 



401 

A?;ain, bow many infants die which answer no purpose hut 
to briMi^ sorrow to their parents. — Should it be said ihat they 
are brought forth, and t[iey die, as the necessdry consequent 
ces of the present nature of things, and that God has no par- 
ticular designs in their birth or death, — the question may be 
asked, why is the present nature of things such that human 
beings must experience much affliction ? Can we suppose 
that an Almighty Being suffers the nature of things to be such 
that there must necessarily be much human misery, merely 
for sake of this misery ? Or does th'S misery have some con- 
nexion with a future state ? It is said that nothing is in vain 5 
and IS not this misery suffered to be, thai men may know in 
a future state what misery is, and thereby be more happy un- 
der the same circumstances than if they had no notion of such 
a thing as misery ? is it not rational to suppose that God, who 
is the cause of men being born into this world under such cir» 
cumstances that there is a cause for every one of their ac- 
tions, ultimately intends the happiness of all , and that one of 
his W3ys of bringing about this happiness, or, if you please, of 
increasing it, is to first teach men what misery is — teach 
them by experience, the only way in which they can be 
taught ? 

That God may be equally good to all men, a future exist- 
ence seems to be necessary : we think it must be admitted 
that some men experience more misery in proportion to their 
happiness in this life, than others. We do not believe 
that man has any claims on the Almighty for a future and 
happy state of existence, for any thing he does in this life. 
So on the other hand, we do not believe that man deserves a 
future state of misery for any thmg he does in ih's life; but 
that God may be equall) good towards all men — that all men 
may enjoy equal shares of happuiess in proportiou to their 
shares of misery, a future existence is necessary. 



402 

The vast superiority of man over the brute creation, and 
bis capability of improvement in knowledge and virtue, ap» 
pear to us to argue a little in favor of his future existence. 

Another consideration which may have some weight with 
one who is not an atheist, is the wonderful display of God's 
sovereignty which a reorganization of all human beings that 
ever did or will die, would be. One can scarcely picture to 
himself the greatness of such a thing. It would be an occa- 
sion of a thousand fold more astonishment and heartfelt 
gratitude than the creation of the universe ; for at that time 
we may suppose there were but few to wonder and rejoice. 
It would most firmly convince every one that there is a God. 
Only conceive of millions of millions of human beings, of all 
ages, tongues and nations— parents and children, brotherSy 
sisters and friends, at one time commg to life, and beholding 
each other ! We should then behold the men of former ages^ 
concerning whom we have read with so much interest ; should 
be iiiformed of the important events that had occurred since 
our death ; and should find that the God of nature did not 
create man merely to see him squirm in this world of tail and 
pain. Then should we (infidels) be overjoyed in finding that 
we were not to depart from our friends into regions of endless 
torments, and being the more happy on being thus disappoint- 
ed, we should see that the God of goodness suffered Adam's 
children to scare one another with hcU-Jire and damnation, 
for the same purpose that he suffered other causes of misery 
to exist I Then should we love and praise God with all our 
powers— then should we be in the kingdom of heaven, every 
one of us, altogether, with great rejoicing and thankfulness of 
heart ! — Ah, yes : the God thai made the universe had some 
higher object ia view, than a short and sorrowful existence of 



40.3 



CHAPTER XXXn. 

On Human Happiness^ Good and Evil, Morality, ^c: 

Human happiness consists in agreeable conscient actions 
of the nervous system of human beings, — be these actions, 
actions of the organic and cerebral extremities of the nerves 
alone ; or of nerves and the sensorium together ; or of the 
sensorium alone. When these actions take place only in 
the organic and cerebral extremities of nerves, they consti- 
tute agreeable sensatio7is ; when they take place in nerves 
and the sensorium together, they constitute agreeable percep- 
tions ; and when they take place in the sensorium alone, they 
constitute agreeable thoughts. 

That portion of happiness which consists in agreeable sen- 
sations and perceptions, is generally called pleasure. As 
all sensations and perceptions are a higher degree of conscious- 
ness than mere sensorial actions or thoughts ; that portion 
of happiness called pleasure is more vivid than mere senso- 
rial happiness. But in proportion as it is more vivid, its du- 
ration is more transient ; for it is attended with a greater 
wear and tear of the system, which wear and tear not only 
disenables the system for being the subject of agreeable con- 
scient actions, but often gives rise to conscient actions of a 
different and opposite nature, constituting misery. — Nervous 
happiness or pleasure is like the flash of shavings ; but senso- 
rial happiness, like the burning of coal, is less vivid and more 
permanent. 

The CAUSES of happiness may be divided into two classes, 
immediate and remote. The immediate causes are impres- 
sions upon the senses and sensorial tendencies ; the latter are 
causes of sensorial happiness, the former of nervous happiness, 
or pleasure. The remote causes of happiness are very nu- 
merous and varied : whatever conduces to our health is of 
this class; and what people mean by honor, wealth, power, 
&:c., belongs to this class of causes ; though, indeed, we are 
not so happy in possessing these things as we are in the act of 
obtaining them. 

It is often asserted, and has been maintained by philoso- 
phers, that God is almighty ; and that h€ wills the happinees 



4M 

of mankind. But adnnitting there is any human misery— an^ 
there is certaitily an incalculable amount of it — to unsophis- 
ticated common sense one of these opinions concerning the 
Defty mnst be erroneous ; or at least the assertion, that he 
wills the happiness of mankind must be taken in a ceriain 
limited sense: we must understand by it, that he wills such 
happiness of mankind as they actually experience, and »!ot 
perfect, unminj^led happiness. It would be highly absurd, if 
nol a contradiction in terms, to say that things are not as an 
Aimighty Being wishes tliem to be. 

Just so certain hs there is any such thing as hiiman misery, 
just so certain the Deity is not almighty, or does not will the 
perfect happiness of triankind. It avails nothing to say man 
is as happy as he can be Usider the present nature of thmgs ; 
for an almighty Being who is the Author of nature might have 
had the nature of things ditferent — might have decreed that 
no disagreeable action take place in a man's nervous system 
— or may still have it ditferent. As little does it avail to 
say that mari is a free aajerit, and brings nis misery upon him- 
self; tor mail is not a ^vqq age\it. unless a^^tions occur in his 
head and muscles without causes ; and adm:ttmg him to be a 
free agent, we couid only say he brings his misery upon him- 
self because his nature is such — which nature an Almighty 
Being may change or nughl have caused to be different. It 
amounts to nothing to imagine a devil itito existence, and say 
that he is the author of human misery ; for a!i Almighty Be- 
ing may destroy even a real devil, or might have prevented 
his existence at all. The means that proud man has invent- 
ed, to reconcile the seniiment of God's ornntpotence with the 
sentiment of his wiliifig (he perfect hippiness of mankind, 
are truly laughable— as much so as one's getting into a basket 
and *rymg to lift himself up. 

We hold that the D ity is Almsghty, but does not will the 
perfect happiness of mmkind. AkJ instead of virtually main- 
tainiug that he is not Almighty, and imagining enemies of hig 
into existence who, notwithstandin*i all his pains to subdue 
them, are still frustrating his noble designs with great success, 
we thank him for our present existence which, notwithstand- 
ing all our present pains and expectations of a better after this, 
is so dear to us th it we are exceedingly loth to part with it, 
4nd we hold that our present misery is intended as a means of 



405 

rendering up wore bappy in a future stnfe than we otherwise 
shouid hf, uiKit r flu- same circumstaiicefj. 

Where is the evidence (hat the present slate of things is 
not as God wills or wishes it to be — where is the evidence 
Ihat he wishes our perfect happiriess ? Archdeacon Paiey 
tells us, that :~ 

'' When God created the human species, either he wished 
therr happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was inditfe- 
rent and unconcerned about both. 

'' If he had wished our misery, he might have made sure of 
his purpose, by torming ou- senses to be so many sores and 
pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratitication and 
enjo}ment ; or by placnig us amidst ob eels so ill suited to our 
perceptions, as to have contmually offended us, instead of 
rmnsterug to our refrcslmieiit and deiight. He might have 
Hjade. tor example, every thing we tasted bitter, every thing 
we saw ioa1h^o^>e; evei} thnig we touched a sting; every 
smell a stent h ; and every sound a discord. 

" If he had t>een inditlerent about our happiness or misery, 
we must impute to oui 5^:000 fortune (as all design by th>s sup- 
position is excluded) both the capacity of our senses to re- 
ceive pleasure, and the supply oi external objects fitted to 
produce it. 

''But either of these (and still more both of them) being 
too much to be attributed to accident, notliing remains but the 
first suposition. that God, when he created the human spe- 
cies, wished their happiness ; and made for them the provi- 
sion which he has made, with tliat view, and for that purpose. 

'" The same argument may be proposed \n diiFerent terms, 
thus: Contrivaiice proves design; and the predominant ten- 
dency of the contrivante indicates the disposition of the de- 
signer. The world abounds with contrivances ; and all the 
contrivances which we are acquamted with, are directed 10 
beneficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, exists; but is never, 
that we can perceive, the object of contrivance. Teeti) are 
contrived to eat, not to ache ; their aching now and tlien is 
incidental to ttse contrivance, [)erhaps inseparable from n ; 
or even, if vou wdl, let it be called a detect in 'he (oniii- 
vance; but it is not the object of it. I'his is a distincuon 
whifh well deserves to be attended to. In describing imple- 
ments of husbandry, you woiiid hardly say of the sickle, ihat 
it IS made to cut the reaper's lingers, Itiougli, Irona the con- 



406 

structlon of the instniment, and the manner of using it, this 
mischief often happens. But if you had occasion to describe 
instruments of torture or execution, this, you would say, is to 
dislocate the joints ; this to break the bones ; this to scorch the 
soles of the feet. Here pain and misery are the very objects of 
the contrivance. Now nothing of this sort is to be found in the 
works of nature. We never discover a train of contrivance 
to bring about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discov- 
ered a system of organization calculated to produce pain and 
disease ; or, in explaining the parts of the human body, ever 
said, this is to irritate ; this to inflame ; this duct is to con- 
vey the gravel to the kidneys ; this gland to secrete the hu- 
mour which forms the ^out* If by chance he come at a part 
of which he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it 
is useless ; no one ever suspects that it is put there to incom- 
mode, to annoy, or to torment. Since then God hath called 
forth his consummate wisdom to contrive and provide for our 
happiness, and the world appears to have been constituted 
with this design at first, so long as this constitution is uphold- 
en by him, we must in reason suppose the same design to con- 
tinue." 

But we are not altogether satisfied with the learned Doc- 
tor's reasoning. When he speaks of our happiness and misery 
in the first sentence of the preceding quotation, we wish he 
had informed us whether, when God created the human spe- 
cies, he wished them to be ^o/«% happy or totally miserable ; 
or only as happy as we are and as miserable as we are. If 
this last be his meaning, we can agree with him, — we can ad- 
mit that when God created the human species, he intended 
them to be both happy and miserable, alternately as we are. 
But if he mean perfect happiness and perfect misery, then we 
have two things to say. First, as we are somewhat happy 
and somewhat miserable, "God hath called forth his consum- 
mate wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness" in 
vain ; — he is not almighty, he cannot accomplish even his 
own wishes and designs. Second, this sentence of Paley, 
though advanced as if it were a self evident proposition, is 
very far from being such. Jf God neither wished our perfect 
happiness, nor perfect misery, it does not follow that he " was 
indifferent and unconcerned about both." We might as well 
say of a grey piece of cloth, the maker of it wished it white, 
or he wished it black, or he was indifferent and unconcerned 



407 

&l>out either. We should not say this — we should say he 
wished it not white, and he wished it not black, but he wished 
it grey. Just so we say of our present state, it is grey, and is 
just what i\\Q Almighty wished it to be when he " called forth 
his consummate wisdom" in creating the universe, of which 
man is a part. 

Paley remarks that the world abounds with contrivances, 
but among the whole there is not one contrivance of nature's 
God for the express purpose of producing misery ; and this 
he thinks is sufficient evidence that God wills thefhappiness 
of mankind. But Paley does not seem to come to the point 
concernirjg this matter. — All misery is confined to the ner- 
vous system : it is a disagreeable consciousness — a disagree- 
able conscient action of the brain, or of the brain and nerves 
together; and the question is, did he who is the Author of 
our being, and of all things around, so constitute the nervous 
system that disagreeable conscient actions may be excited in 
it; and has he created ar)y things which are capable of exci- 
ting the^e actions ? if so, ilieri he is the author of our misery 
in the same sense he is the author of our happiness. There 
may be more things which give us pleasurfe, than there are 
that give us pain — though few if any things are created ex- 
pressly and exclusively for either — and man may be the sub- 
ject of much more happiness th.^n misery ; but there is noth- 
ing under heaven which argues that God wished the perfect 
happiness ,of mankind. On the contrary, we have sufficient 
reasoji to believe that he is able to render us perfectly happy, 
and to accomplish every thing he wishes to, notwithstanding 
all the braui-begoiten devils that be. — We shall show present- 
ly why many deists and believers in a supernatural religion 
are so loth to admit that He. wlio is the Author of our naturCj 
and of all things around, is the Author of our misery, in the 
same sense he is the Author of our happiness. 

The words Good and £ri7, like all other words, are of hu~ 
man invention. They are both general terms. Every thing 
which is productive of human happiness, is good ; every thing 
which is productive of human misery, is evil. All things are 
good or evil, according to circumstatices ; or in other words^ 
what is good — what is productive of happiness — on one oc- 
casion, may be evil — may be productive of misery — on anoth- 
er. Perhaps there is nothing under heaven that is invariably 



4GS 

good or invariably and purely evil, under all circumstances 
heiice it is corrnnon to shj of a thing, il is i^ood in \t^ plare. or 
it is ;40od, it you make proper use of it. But if it be believed 
that a thing m the long run and hroad 7'un. is productive of 
more happiness than misery, it is called good, thouii^h under 
some particular c'rcum^r.Hnces it may be productive of some 
considerable misery. So if a thing be productive of some 
happiness, hut much more misery, it is pronounced evil. No 
one would think of calling the sun a bad or evil thing because 
it sometimes burns one's skin, or parches the ground in a 
drought : but distilled spirits are generally and justly account- 
ed evil, for they are the cause of more human misery than 
happiness. 

Vice and Virtue are words which we propose to use in a 
more limited sense than tlie words ijood and evil. We con- 
sider virlue and vice as bearing ihe same relation to ijood and 
evil, that pleasure bears to happiness. Virtue and vice con- 
stitute only a part of good and evil. They consist in those 
actions of men which are productive of happiness and misery. 

The word virtue, then, is a general term comprehending 
all those human actions which tend to human happiness, 
either by actually giving rise to it, in those cases in which it 
could hardly be said the person is either happy or miserable, 
or by relieving misery when it exists, or by preventing its ex- 
istence. And the word vice is a general term, comprehend- 
ing all those human actions which tend to human misery, or 
indeed wantoii misery of any sentient being. 

Such being the meaning- which we atini h to the words good 
and evil, virtue and vice, or virtuous and vicious \ we sec vvhy 
many are loth to admit that God is the amiioi of our miseiy 
in the same sense he is the author of our happiness. It seems 
to he the same as raying that God is evil or vicious ; but we 
must remember that almost every thing produces both hap- 
piness and misery — the same thing hein^igood in one particu- 
lar instance, tiiough not in another. Consequently there is a 
good in the particular, and a good on the whole. Whatever in 
the long run and broad run is productive of more happiness 
than misery, must be, and is, pronounced good ; although it 
may be the cause of some, even much, misery. It follows, 
then, that if there be more happiness than misery among cre- 
ated beings, the Author of them is really and «b>oluteiy good, 
and not evil, any more than the sun, which, though it parch 



409 

the ground in a drought, and for a few days in the summer 
render those in a southern climate uncomfortable, is essential 
to our existejice and all that we enjoy. 

The author of our heing is ^ood and almighty, notwith- 
standing he has been so very good to us, that some proud fel- 
lows took it into their heads that he never intended, and is dis- 
pleased at, whatever is productive of human misery ; and 
have degraded his character — as it respects his power — by 
imagining enemies of his into existence (o account for this 
misery, which enemies are rnntinually frustrating the designs 
and wishes of the ALMIGHTY ; notwithstanding, with much 
ado, he has succeeded m getting the immaterial beings \\\Xo 
chains ! Away with these absurdities, and let us embrace the 
solid truths which reason di<^covers. — We need not fear of 
representing the Deity in a more degrading point of view than 
he has been represented. — When we come to know that our 
misery in this life is only intended to render us more happy 
in a future, we shall have reason to exclaim, the goodness of 
God is past all conception. 

As many things are productive of such a mixture of happi» 
ness and misery, that it is not always clear whether m the end 
they give rise to more of the one than the other, we must of- 
ten reason [think over fact>] to determine whether a thing is 
productive of more happiness than misery ; hence arises the 
science of ethics or morality. Those who are extensively 
acquainted with the nature and relations of things, and are 
able to discover the distant consequences of certam courses 
of conduct, may discover consequences ofcertain actions or 
principles of action which other men do not learn from the 
hook of nature. Hencci some men may teach others in some 
cases, what is productive of more happmess than misery, or 
more misery than happiness — may convince them what !& 
virtuous and what is vicious, when they would otherwise be 
in doubt or mistaken. 

But no man, however learned, has ever existed in a future 
state, or knows that any course of conduct in this world of 
causes and effects, will have any influence on our future hap- 
piness. He may speculate about this matter, and so far as his 
speculations appear reasonable, so far wdl men believe ; for 
to believe in a low degree and to have a thing appear reasona- 
hie. are the same thing : — what appears probable or certain to 
any one, he believes m still higher degrees , and what one 

52 



410 

knoios^ he believes in the highest possible degree. But a man 
cannot bring any book of human authorship, informirig us of 
a connexion between our conduct here and our happiness 
hereafter, which is anj more to be depended on than a book 
which may be written nowadays ; for there are men now hv- 
ing who can see as far into the consequences of human ac- 
tions as any man that ever hved. 

[f any man bring forward a book whereby to regulate our 
conduct, and pretend that it is of divine origin, he must first 
prove this, before he can expect we shall regard it with bhnd 
faith — faith not founded on reason and evidence. We know 
there are three or four books in the world which have been 
brought forward with such pretensions ; but there is nothing 
to substantiate the divine origin of either of these books, ex- 
cept their own con(ents. If on examining these books we 
discover any thing supernatural in them — any marks of divin- 
ity in them — we must suppose that they originated from a 
source superior to the natural creature man \ but if we dis- 
cover nothing supernatural in them — nothing but what may 
be of human origin, then we have no evidence that they are 
of divine authority.— The earth, and every thing else which 
we know that man could not make, we consider a production 
of nature's God ; but we never believe that God has any im- 
mediate agency in the production ofany thuig which man may 
make, unless we except these books. We know that these 
books relate miracles ; and miracles are supernatural events ; 
but the relation of an event is nothing supernatural, be the 
event what it may. Neither is it supernatural or uncommon 
for men to be deceived, or to relate falsehoods knowingly. 
There are no miracles in any book, but merely the relation 
of miracles ; and in determining whether a relation of a mir- 
af le be true or false, we know of no surer and better rule, 
than to inquire with ourselves, which is the most rational sup- 
position — which the most frequently happens — that men are 
deceived or he intentionally or that events occur contrary to 
the laws of nalure. — If the Book of Nature tell us one 
thing, and a paper book the contrary, then one or the other 
niosl be false ; and as God is the Author of the Book of Na- 
ture, we cannot hesitaie to say the paper book is false and 
not of divine origin, unless we can believe that the Deity tells 
Us one thing iu his universal book, aad the contrary in a book 



4U 

which is known but to a small part of the human beings that 
have been, are, and will be. 

Now as it is not known that our conduct in this hfe, will 
have any influence on our happiness hereafter, we th nk it 
proper to consider morahty and religion as two distinct things 
— the one as having relation to our happiness in this life, the 
other as consisting of doctrines and speculations concerning 
our future existence. Religion may concur with morality, or 
include it, as one thing includes another ; but still they are dis- 
stinct things, and a man may be moral if not religious, and re- 
hgious (according to our deiinition of religion) if not moral. 
He may believe and profess to believe certam doctrines, opi- 
nions, statements, &c. ; and yet he may not act in conformity 
to those prmciples v/hich are, or are believed to be, productive 
of happines^i in this life. If religion be nothing but morality, 
then Js it nothing better or worse than morality ; but if it 
be something besides morality, then is it something distinct 
from it. 

According to these views, if it be a religions doctrine that 
certain courses in this life are necessary to our happiness in 
the future ; then, as the future will be infinitely longer in du- 
ration than the present, whoever believes such doctrine acts 
consistent with his belief in pursuing such courses and in striv- 
ing to have others pursue them, even if he sacrifice all world- 
ly enjoyments and render all around him unhappy in doing so» 
The glormus end he has in view justifies the means. It is 
purchasing a pearl of great worth, without any thing like aa 
equivalent — he mortifies the flesh to be sure, but then it is to 
ensure the everlasting happiness of the '' soul,'' which is as 
great a reward as the most selfish man could ask. 

But the mere moral man aims at the happiness of the hu- 
man family (including himself of course) in this hfe ; and do- 
ing what he can to render his own days long and happy, as 
well as those of his fellow creatures, he trusts, unconcernedly, 
that He who is the author of nature and his present happi- 
ness, and he who cannot punish his creatures but for some 
good purpose, will deal mercifully with him in a future state 
of existence. But to return to the consideration of virtue. 

We have said that virtue consists in those actions of human 
beings which tend to human happiness. Perhaps it ivill be 
said that human actions may be productive of happiness al- 
though the actor or agent did not act with the intention of 



412 

producing such effect, but perhaps even with the intention 
ofproduciiig j);4!n : awd if so, we cannot cal} his action virtuous. 
Consequenll}' in givnig a definition of virtue, we ought to in- 
clude intentions as well as actions. But what is an intention 
but an action of that which iniends — what is it but an action 
or actions of (hat which thinks — what is it but actions of the 
sensoriuin ? In saying that virtue consists m actions of human 
beings that are productive of happiness, we would be under- 
stood to include actions of the nervous system as well as mus- 
cular. The muscular actions of anj man are not generally 
the immediate cause of happiness in others, and his nervous 
actions — his intentions— are one link more remote in the 
chain of causes that give rise to happiness in others, than his 
muscular actions ; but still they are as truly actions of him as 
the motions of his limbs: they are actions which operate in 
producing the effect [happiness] through the mediani of his 
muscles. 

Perhaps it will be furthor objected to our defiriition of vir- 
tue, that a mai.'s actions may prove a cause of mi-ery in oth- 
ers, though he intended noihing but happiness. To this we 
VJ^ould reply :— We do not dv?termine whether a thing be good 
or virtuous, by the elfects it may have in some few particular 
cases; we take into consideration \{^ getter al tendency — we 
consider what effects such a thing gfinero/Zy produces. Con- 
sequently if a man's intentions be such as are generally pro- 
ductive of happiness, we call them virtuous, although on ac- 
count of some unffireseen circumstance they be productive of 
the reverse, m some particular case. If a man intend to ren- 
der A fellow heing hi^ppy, his intention is such as generally 
has this etfect, and is, therefore, a virtuous intention. So on 
the other hand, if a man intend to render a fellow being mi- 
serable, his intention is vicsous although it may prove a cause 
of mo misery, hut much hap >iness, even in this fellow being. 
C<^ isequently. in determining whether a man's intentions be 
virtuous or vicious in any case in which he acts, we do not so 
much r^^gard the consequencer of his action, as the circum- 
st;iv.j es under winch he acts. If these circumstances be such 
as to lead us to believe that he intended happiness, and not 
misery, we say his intentious \\ere virtuous, and himself me- 
ritor'ous. 

Tii'^so actions of hutnan heings which are productive of 
tiore hdppiiiess than misery, are traiy and absolutely virta- 



413 

ous, and these actions constitute virtue ; but ov*^ing to circum- 
stances which give rise to a diifererice of education, in the 
widest sense of the term, men in all ages and countries may 
not wholly agree as to what is productive of more happiness 
than misery — may not wholly agree as to what is virtuous and 
what is vicious. Hence in some places a man may be consi- 
dered meritorious for doing that which in other places he 
would be condemnc^d for doing; and he may feel that he does 
right — may feel a sense of approbation in doing what otiiers 
would feel remorse or disapprobation in doing. 

However, men in all parts of the world believe very nearly 
alike as to what is virtuous and whal is vicious — what it is 
right for them to do, and what it is wror»g for them to do. 
7'his is the case, because all men are chii lly taught what it is 
right and wliat it is wrong for them to do, by one and the same 
universal book the book of nature. Paper books are not ne- 
cessary to teach them what actions of others are necessary to 
produce happiness or misery in themselves; nor to (each 
them that men are very nearly alike as to what render? them 
happy or miserable. It is only in a few instances that, by 
pointing out the remote consequences of certain actions or 
principles of coiiduct, some men may teach others what is 
productive of more happiness than misery, or more misery 
than happiness — what is right and what is wrong for them to 
do — what is virtuous aud what is vicious — what they ought to 
do and what they ought not to do. 

We hold that what a man ougJit to do, il is right for him to 
do, and what it is right for him to do, it is virtuous in him to 
do ; and what is virtuous is productive of happiness, the grand 
object of all human beings. 

The question now arises, why ought men to do that which 
is productive of happiness. The answer is, because it is 
productive of happiness. This is the answer whn h must 
ultimately be given, let us give as many other answers before 
we are compelled to give this, as we can devise. Tiiose who 
believe in a future state of rewards and punishments — and in- 
deed those who do not — may say that we ought to practice vir- 
tue, ought to do that which is productive of happiness, be- 
cause it is the will of God that we do so ; but why ought we 
o obey the will of God ? Because we shall be happy here or 
lereafter, if we do, and miserable if we do not. This is the 
nost cogent answer that can be given to the question, why 



414 

ot3gbt we to obey the will of God ? But in this case, the high- 
est inducement to perform a certain deed — that which renders 
it obligatory on us to perform it — is the consequent happiness. 

Should any one presume to say, that the Almighty is pleas- 
ed at some of our actions, and displeased at others, and that 
we ought to perform certain actions because they please the 
Almighty ; then happiness would be the end and inducement 
of performing such actions : the happiness however would be 
that of the Deity — derstical happiness, instead of human. But 
we can hardly bring ourselves to say that the happiness of the 
Almighty is at all dependent on the dependent worms of his 
creation. 

We do not believe in acts of disinterested benevolence ; — 
we believe it would be contrary to the laws of volition for a 
man to do a voluntary act which he does not desire to do ; and 
to grnUty a desire is to gratify self. Those who maintfxin 
that we often do acts of kiridness without any seitish motive, 
rely much on the fact that we often fly to the relief of a fel- 
low creature in distress before we have had time to reflect on 
the good that will result to us from doing so. But the advo- 
cates of the selfish system may reply, that the succession of 
thoughts is so rapid, that it is impossible for any to say, with 
certainty, that we ever fly to the relief of any one on seeing 
him in distress, before we have had time to think over several 
thoughts. They may say, also, that we have previously 
found out that it gives us pleasure to help one in distress — 
that it causes such one tofeel grateful towards us, and we feel 
well in knowing that one ieels grateful towards us. Conse- 
quently when we see a person in distress, there is no more need 
of our stopping to consider whether it will be conducive to 
our happiness to hel}) him, than there is of our stopping to 
consider whether we had better exert ourselves to prevent 
our falling into the fire, when we are in danger of it. Again, 
it may be said, that owing to the principle of association, it 
gives us disagreeable consciousness to see a fellow being ia 
distress; and by giving him relief we relieve this disagreea- 
ble consciousness, that is, render ourselves more happy, or if 
jou please, less miserable. 

We do not say that we always think of self, any more than 
we think of the king of England, when we fly to the reliet of 
another; but we say that if we were every way just as happy 
in not relieving the distresses of a fellow being as in relieving 



415 

it, we should have no desire to relieve it ; and that we never 
do a voluntary act which we have no desire to do. — If to 
maintain this be to maintain a selfish system of morality, then 
we maintain such system. 

But although we do not believe in acts of disinterested be- 
nevolence, (u?ing these terms in a strict philosophical seoae,) 
still we would not say it is right for a man to perform a cer- 
iain action — that he ought to perform it — that it is virtuous 
in him to perform it ; because by performing it he increases 
his oion happiness solely ; and especially if he increase it at 
the expense of another's happiness. But we say an action is 
virtuous — is an action which the agent ought to perform — is 
an action, for performing which the agent is meritorious, when 
in the long run and broad run it increases the sum of human 
happiness more than it iticreases the sum of human misery. 

Perhaps ii will be asked if a man ought to do an act which 
renders himself less happy, provided by doing so he render 
two or more as much more happy as he does himself less. 
To this we answer, he is under no higher obligation to do so, 
than he is to practice virtue. We should not call him vi- 
cious — we should not call him a producer of misery — if he did 
not perform such act ; but he would be virtuous if he did. As 
it happens, the nature of things is such that a man very sel- 
dom renders himself less happy by rendering others more so, 
provided he act with the intention of doing what he thinks is 
right — what he thinks will be productive of more happiness 
than misery in the long run and broad run, A man may rea- 
der a highwayman more happy by assisting him to escape jus- 
tice, and may bring misery upon himself by doing so ; but he 
does not do what he thinks is right when he does this; that 
is, if he know the highwayman to be such ; but if he do nol;, 
law does not require him to be punished for the act. — Let us 
offer a few moie remarks concerning disinterested benev- 
olence. 

Although to gratify a desire is to gratify self, and although 
we do not do any voluntary act which we do not desire to do, 
(except it be from habit, which by the by we never shouid ac- 
quire i| we never acted, and never should act in the first 
place -it we had no desire to act,) still different men may do 
similar acts from different motives — if indeed it be proper to 
call acts similar, when the motives are different, — One may 
act with a view of receiving a recompense which he dots not 



416 

derive from within, but a recompense at (he expense of him 
whom he assists : if he do not expect ready cash, he may ex- 
pect some good turn from him sometime or other, and would 
Dot assist him on any other principle. Another may do a 
like act, not with a view of receiving any pay in those things 
which men love to keep, as money, goods, privileges. &c. ; 
but with a view o^ causing one or more to feel grateful to- 
wards him — to think well of him — or to prevent the misery 
he would experience in not acting. Such one performs an 
act which has much more the appearance of disinterestedness 
than the act of him who acts with the view of receiving a re- 
compense in those things which men toil and fight for ; but 
it IS not an act which the agent has no interest in performing. 
This is a world in which we are all in pursuit of happiness ; 
and that we may not hinder but help each other along, we are 
so constsiuted that we experience a disagreeable conscious- 
ness wheriever we do that which, by the book of nature or 
otherwise, ue are taught to believe is opposed to the general 
happiness of mankind ; and so constituted as to experience 
an agreeable consciousness whenever we do that which we 
believe has a reverse tendency. And as we believe those 
actions for which the agent claims no recompense, in those 
things which men toil for and love to keep, are productive of 
more happiness than those which are sold for an equivalent 
in those things which men toil and fight for ; we experience 
a more distinctly agreeable consciousness in contemplating 
such actions, than in contemplating those tor which the agent 
claims a recompense in those things which men are loth to 
part with. Such actions as the former, we call acts of be- 
nevolence ; but as we have said, they are not acts in which 
the agent has no interest, and consequently not acts of dis- 
interested benevolence. 

We do not say that any part of us is constituted expressly 
and solely for the intent that we may experience a disagreea- 
ble or an agreeable consriousiiess whenever we contemplate 
those actions of ourselves or others which we believe would 
be, are. or have been, productive of miser) or happiness. We 
say that our constitution being such as it is, such conscious- 
ness is one of the many elfects that are to be traced to such 
constitution. 

An action is witnessed by us, or described to us ; it is an 
action which ue know to be, or believe to be, productive of 



417 

happiness ; the circumstances relating to it are such that we 
believe the a^ent intended this haj)pipess ; aad an emotsoQ 
arises in us, which we call a sense ofapprobation towards the 
agent. But why does it arise, and what is the nature ofit ? 
Is it the immdiate effect of witnessing or hearing ofsuch ac- 
tion, and does it arise in all men on witnessnig or hearing of 
such action ? Or does something intervene between witnes- 
sing the action and the existence of the emotion, which inter- 
vening something may he ditFerent in dilferent men, and per- 
haps wholly wanting in some ? The emotion would not arise 
were it not for those laws of the nervous system — those ulti- 
mate facts relative to the nervous system — on which our oth- 
er emotions depend. Were it not diat tho^e actions of the 
sensorium which are in some way related, orcur in connex- 
ion, and likewise that on the occurrence of certain sensorial 
actions, conscjent actions of nerves in or about the epigas- 
tric region arise, such emotion would not ari-e on witnessmg 
the action. The mere optical perception of one person mur- 
dering another, is no more disagreeable than tiie mere optical 
perception of one person kissing anotiiet. If a man conid be 
produced with a well organizi'd system, but entirely destitute 
of sensorial tendencies, the sight of one person murdering 
another would no more excite a disagreeable emotion in him 
than the sight of one person ki^smg another, or oric person 
wrestling with another. It would not even suggest a single 
thought ; it would excite an optical perception, and produce 
a sensorial tendency — this wguid be all. 

But owing to what we acquire by experience, to wit, our 
knowledge, our sensorial tendencies — which, by <he by, may 
be, nay are, ditFerent in ditFerent men — the optica! perception 
of one person murdering another, may be followed by such 
conscient actions of the sensorium and of nerves, as consti- 
tute a disagreeable emotion ; and this emotion, together with 
the idea of the agent who intentionally kills, constitutes what 
we call a sense of disapprobation towards such agent. 

Some have used the word virtue to aenote only those ac- 
tions whicii, when contemplated, give rise to a sense of appro- 
bation •, but according to this use of the word, an ^ctiosi is 
virtuous or not virtuous, depending upon the knowledge and 
?i€r-:oii2ness of those by whom it is contemplated. 

53 



418 



CHAPTER XXXIIl. 



A Brtef Sketch of the Opinions of several Ancient and Modem 
Philosophers^ concennng the Com, titution and Phenomena of 
Man : Given partly for the purpose of showing that the Hy- 
pothesis of Son! gave rise to the Sceptical Philosophy of 
Berkley and Hume, 

I do not know that any ancient philosopher ever ques- 
tioned the existence of something which the word soul may 
■with propriety be used to signify : it appears that ai) took the 
existeiiCe of some such thing for granted. But they thought 
diiferently concerning its nature, and speculated not a iittle 
concerning the way and manner in which it is affected by ex- 
ternal objects. Some maintained that it is of a spiritual, and 
others that it is of a material nature. Those who held that it 
is material, disputed to which of the four elements it belongs ; 
whether to earth, air, tire, or water. Some held that it con- 
sists in part ot all these elements ; and that ii perceives earth 
by the earthly part ; water by the watery part ; and fire, bj 
the tiery part of the soul. 

^' The most spiritual and sublime notion," says Dr. Reid, 
" concerning the nature of the soul, to be met wiih among 
the ancierjt philosophers, I concesve to be that of the Plato- 
nists. who heid that it is made of ihat celestial and inconnp- 
tibJe matter of which the fixed stars were made, and there- 
fore has a natural tendency to rejoin its proper element.'" 

From this it appears that the mos! " spiritual" notion of 
the ancient philoso])her.s concerning the nature of the soul, 
is, that it is made, of '' matter !" as.d of matter loo, as gross 
perhaps as that of which this earth is formed, 

'" It must be obvious," says Dr. Good, in his Book of Na- 
ture, vol. 2, '' t! at there never is, nor can be, any direct com- 
munication between the mind and the external objects the 
mmd perceives, which are usually, indeed, at some distance 
from the sense that gives notice of them. Thus, in looking 
at a tree, it is the eye alone that really beholds the tree, 
while the mind only receives a notion of its presence, by 
some means or other, from the visual organ. What then is 
the medium by which such communication is made, which in 



419 

duces the mindj seated as it is in vsome undeveloped part of 
the brain, to have a correspondent perception of the form, 
size, colour, smelJ, and even distance of oi)jects with the sen- 
ses which are seated on the surface of the body ; andwhich, 
at the same time it conveys this mformation, produces such 
an additional effect that the miijd is ai)le at its option to re- 
vive the perception, or call up aii exact notion or tdea of 
these qualities at a distant period, or when the objects them- 
selves are no longer present ?" 

" The principal systems that were started among the phi- 
losophers of Greece to explain the orifgin and value of human 
knowledge, were those of Plato, of Aristotle, of Epicurus, 
and of the sceptics, especially Pyrrho and Ar<"esiUs ; and the 
principal systems to which they have ^ven birlh in laier 
times, are those of Des Cartes, Locke, Berl^ley, Hume, Hart- 
ley, Kant, and the ScoltKsh school of Common Sense, at the 
head ot which we are to place Dr. Reid. 

" I had occasion to observe, in our first series of lectures, 
that it was a dogma common to many of the Greek schools, 
that matter, though essentially elertjal, is also, in its primal 
and simple slate, essentially amorpiious, or destitute of all 
form and quality whatever ; [we can as readily admit that 
such matter is eterjial, as that nothing is eternal ;] and 1 fur- 
ther reinarked, that the gro ind-work of this dogma consisted 
in a belief that form and quality are the cotitrivance of an in- 
tetiigent agent; while matter, though essentially eternal, is 
essentially unmteiligent. Matter, therefore, it was contcnd- 
•ed. cannot possibly assume one mode of form rather than 
another mode ; for if it were capable of assuming any kind, 
it must have been capable of assuming every kiud, and of 
course of exhibiting intelligent effects without any intelligent 
cause. 

" Form, then, according to the Platonic schools, in which 
this was principally taught, existing distinct from matter by 
the mere will of the Great First Cause, presented itself, from 
all eternity, to his wisdom or logos, in every possible variety; 
or, in other words, under an infinite multiplicity of incorpo- 
real or intellectual patterns, exemplars, or archetypes, to 
which the founder of this school gave the name o^ ideas ; a 
term that has descended without any mischief into the popu- 
lar language of our own day ; but which, in the hands of ihe 
schoolmen, and various other theorists, has not uufrequently 



420 

been productive of cGjregioiis errors and abuses. By the 
union of ^hese in ciieclaa! archetypes with the whole, or any 
porlion ofpnmary or incorporeal matter, matter immediately 
become? ejnbodied, assumes palpable forms, correspondent 
Wfth the archetypes united with it, and is rendered an object 
of sjerception to the external senses ; the mind, or intelligent 
pnrniple, however, — which is an emanation from the great 
inti.'.;lr,',ent cause, — neve?^ perceiving any thing more than the 
intellectual or formative ideas of objects as they are presented 
io the senses ^ and reasoning concerning them by those ideas 
alone." 

" The only essential variation from this hypothesis which 
Aristotle appears to have intruded mto his own, consists in 
his having clothed, 'f I may be allowed the expression, the 
nnked ideas of Plato, with the actual qualities of the objects 
perceived ; his doctrine bein^i;, that the sense, on perceiving 
or being excited by an external object, conveys to the mind 
a real resemblance of it ; which, however, though possessing 
form, colour, and other qualities of matter, is not matter it- 
self, but an insubstarjtial miage, like the picture in a mirror; 
a« though the mind itself were a kind of mirror, and had a 
power of reflecting (he image of whatever object is present- 
ed to the exteriial senses. This insubstantial image or pic- 
ture, in order to dislmguish it from the intellectual pattern or 
idea of Plato he denominated a phantasm,,'^^ 

"" Ej'icurus concurred m the doctrine that the mind per- 
ceives serjsible objects by means of sensible images ; but he 
conteiided that those images are as strictly material as the 
objerts fi'om which l.hey eminafe ; and that, if we allow them 
to pos-ess material quaK'f'es, we must necessarily allow them 
at the same time to iiossess the substance to which such qual- 
ities appertain. E'>?cii!us, therefore, believed the percep- 
tions of the muKl to be real and substantial effigies, and to 
the-^e etti;4!es he ^j^ave ihe name of sPhCits. in contradistinc- 
tion to Jhe insubstantial phantasms of Ari'^totle. and the in- 
tellectual or formative \i,Eas of Pla<o. He maintained that 
all external objects are perpetually throwing off fine alternate 
waves of d fiTrre'if jflivours, odous, colours, shapes, and other 
qualities ; whieh. by sirik-ng against tlieir appropriate senses, 
exci e in iho se.ses themselves a perception of the qualities 
and : resc' ce of !he pareiit o!>iect ; and are immediately con- 
Tejed by the scutifcut channel to the chamber of the mind, or 



421 

sensory^ without any injury to their texture : in the same 
manner as heat, light, and magnetism pervade solid suDstari- 
ces, and still retain their integrity." 

•' With Aristotle and Epicurus Des Cartes contended that 
the mind perceives external ohjects by images or resembian- 
ces presented to it : these images he called, after Plato, ideas ; 
thoiiiih iie neither acceded to the meaning of this term as 
given by Plato, nor allowed with Ari«toi!e or Epicurus that 
they proceed from the objecfs themsehes, and are trans- 
mitted to the mind through the channel of the senses ; so that 
the precise signification he atta*ched to this term is not clear." 
He contended, ''that the mind has a large stock of ideas ©f 
its own, implanted by the hand of nature, and not derived 
from the world around us : ideas, theretore, that are strictly 
innate, and may be found on being ^^earched tor, though other- 
wise not necessarily preser.t to (he mind's contemplation." 

As to Mr. Locke, strange as it may appear to those con- 
versant with his writings, it has been contended by some that 
he did not considpr an idea as any thing distinct from the mind ; 
but we think Dr. Reid was correct ni classing Locke wilh fhe 
ideal philosophers. The passages quoted from Locke, by 
Dr. Thomas Brown, in his Philosophy of the Human Mind, 
to show that Locke d:d not consider ideas as any thing dis- 
tinct from the mind, appear to us \o prove no such thing ; es- 
pecially when we consider that, according to Locke, the mind 
ai birtti is as destitute of ideas as an unwritten sheet of paper 
is destitute of words ; that the nnnd receives ideas by 
the senses, their proper inlets ;* that it compares them, com- 
pounds them, splits them up, trims ofl' their excrescences and 
stores them away for future use. '* To ask," savs Locke, 
" at what time a man has tirst any ideas, is to ask when he be- 
gins to perceive ; having ideas and perception being ihe same 
thing." From this passage it appears that perception is hav 

* " Methinks," sa);s Locke. *' the understauding is not much un- 
like a closet, wholly shut from lieht, wilh only some litde opetjing 
left to let in external visible resemblaiires or ideas of thint^s without. 
Would the pictures coming into such a dark room but stay th<-re, 
and lie so orderly as to be found upon ccrasion, it vv<ti!ld very much 
reseiuble the understandaig ot a man, in reference t<^ all the objects 
of siglit, and tht^ ideas of them." — Human Undersiatidingj Book 
ii. chap. 1 J,6 n. 



4^2 

i7ig ideas ; but il does not appear that ideas are nothing dis- 
tinct from the innid. What is perception ? Why, it is having 
ideas, which are things that a new-born babe possesseb not 
though it possesses a mind or soul. 

The fo]iowing passage of Locke seem^- more than anj other 
to favor the opinion that he did not consider an idea as any 
thnjg distinct from the mind. 

" The other way of retention, is the power to revive again 
in our minds those idea?, which after imprinting have disap- 
peared, or have been as il were laid aside out of sight ; and 
this we do, when we conceive heat or light, yellow or sweet, 
the object being removed. This is memory, which is, as it 
were, the store-house of our ideas. For the narrow mind of 
man not being capable of having many ideas under view and 
consideration at once, it was necessary to have a repository 
to lay up those ideas, which at another time it might have use 
of. But our ideas being nothing but actual perceptions ia 
the mind, \_alias. our perceptions being nothing but ideas ac- 
tual ly in the mind J luhich cease to he any thing ivheii there is 
no perception of thtm^ th s laying up of our ideas in the repo- 
sitory of tiie memory, sigiiincs no more but this, that the mind 
has a power in many cases to revive perceptions, which it has 
once had, with this additional perception annexed to them, 
that it has had them before. And in this sense it is, that our 
ideas are said to be in our memories, whenindeed they are ac- 
tually no zohere^ but only there is an ability in the mind when 
it will to revive them again, and as it were paint them anew 
on itself, though some with more, some with less difficulty ; 
some more hvely, and others more obscurely." 

On the whole, it appears to us that Locke considered ideas 
as something distinct from the mind — if not pictures or images 
of things — something which we acquire by way of our senses 
or by ^' reflection ;" but still whenthey are not perceived, 
when they are " laid aside as it were out of sight," and not 
" under view and consideration," they are something so unlike 
ideas in the mindh- presence chamber, that they cannot properly 
be called ideas ; for an idea, as he has defined it, is "whatever a 
man observes and is conscious to himself he has in his mind ;" 
consequently as ideas " they are no where," — ''ideas ceasing 
to be any thing (to the man that possesses them) when they 
are not perceived.'^'' 

At any rate, if Locke did not consider ideas as something 



423 

distinct from the mind, his Essay on Human Understanding 
is a l»ook o( metaphors, and in a ph?'oso|jhical poiijl of view^ 
by no means worthy of the praises that have been bestowed 
upon it. 

'' Is not," says Sir Isaac Newton. " the sensorium of animals 
the place where llie sentient substance is present : and to which 
sensible species of things are brought, through the nerves and 
braifi, that there they may be perceived by the mind present 
in Ihat place?" And says Dr. Clark, in one of his letters to 
Leibnitz — "' Without being present to the images of things 
perceived, the sou! could not possibly perceive them. A Hy- 
ing substance can only there perceive, where it is present. 
Nothing can any more act, or be acted upon 7uhere it is not 
present than it can when it is not present3" Says Dr. Por- 
tersfield — *' How body acts upon mind or mind upon body, I 
know uot ; but this I am very certain of, ihat nothmg can act, 
or be acted upon, where it is not; and therefore, our mind 
can never perceive any thing but its own proper moditica- 
tions, and the various states of the sensorium, to which it is 
present : so that it is not the external sun and moon which are 
in ihe heavens, whidvh our mind perceives, but only their 
image yr representation, impressed upon (he seiisonum. How 
the soul of a seeing man sees these images, or how it receives 
those ideas, from f«uch agitations tu \hr sensorium, I know not ^ 
but I am sure it can never perceive the exiera! bodies them- 
selves, to which it is not present." "* The slightest philoso- 
phy," savs Mr. Hume, " teaches us, that liothing can ever be 
present to the mind, but an image or perception ; and that the 
senses are only the inlets through winch tliese images are con- 
veyed; without being able to produce any immediate inter- 
course between the mind and the object. The table which 
we se<i seems to dmiinish, as we remove farther from it : but 
the real table wliich exists independeijt of us, suffers no alter- 
ation : it was therefore nothing but its image which was pre- 
sent to the mind. Thes^e are the obvious dictates of reason." 
'^The mind," says Monboddo, ''is not where the body is, when 
it perceives what is distant from the body, either in tmie or 
place; because nothing can act but when and zuhere it is« 
Now, the mmd acts when it perceives. The mind therefore, 
of every animal who has memory or imagination, acts, and of 
consequence exists, when and where t^e body is not ; for it 
perceives objccis distant from the bouy, both in time and 



424 

place.'' — "I suppose," says Malebranche, '•' that every one 
will grant that we perceive not externa! objects inrjrnediately 
and of themselves. We see the sun, the stars, and an infinity 
of objects without us; and it is not at all proiiable tbat, upon 
such occasioris. the soul sallies oul of the body, in order to be 
present to the objects perceived. Sfie sees thenn not therefore 
by themseives : and the imnDediate object of the mind is liot the 
thing perceived, but sonnelhing that is intimately united to the 
soul ; and it is that which I call an idea : so that by the word 
idea. 1 understand nothing else here but that which is nearest 
to the mind when we perceive any object. It ought to be 
carefully observed, that, in order to the mind's perceiving any 
object, It is absolutely necessary that the idea of that object 
be actually preseiit to it. Of this, it is impossible to doubt. 
The things which the soul perceives are of two kinds. They 
are either in the !?ou!, [wonder how things can be in an unex- 
tended thing,] or they are without the soul. Ttiose that are 
in the soul, are its own thoughts; that is to say, all its dif- 
ferent modifications. The soul has no need of idea? to per- 
ceive these thmgs. But with regard to things without the 
soul, we cannot ])erceive tj^m but by means of ideas.'"* 

From what has been advanced in this chapter, the reader 
not only learns to what difficult questions and wild notions, 
the hypothesis of sou! has given rise ; but he is prepared to 
see in what way this hypothesis has given rise to the sceptical 
philosophy of BrTkley and Hume. In the first jdace there 
is a soul in a man's head, w^hich perceives and thinks; the 
question now arises — How can the soul perceive objects ex- 
terior to the body, and in many instances quite distant trom it ? 
'^ Nothing can act where it is not, any more than w hen it is not. 
Now the soul acts when it perceives ;" and it is excited to act 
by tbat which it perceives. Of course, it must either sally out 
of the brain to the object ; or the object must enter the head 
to be present to the soul in the brain ; or something must pass 
from the object into the brain to be present to the soul. But 
it is quite unlikely that a man's soul fiies away to the sun in 
the east, when lie sees the sun, and the next instant — the man 
turning round — flies away to the mountain in the west,; and 
it is also rather difficult to admit that the sun itsc'f enters the 

* The quotations in the foregoini^ par^gr.iph. may all be found 
in Stewart's Phiiosopby of the Human Mind, pages 46, 47, 48. 



425 

brain, for to say nothing of its size, and the velocity with 
which it must move, it cannot be in but one brain at a time — 
yet millions may see the sun at the same instant ; consequent- 
ly the necessary conclusion is, that when the soul perceives 
an object, something passes from the object into the brain, to 
be present to the soul — a something which by different philo- 
sophers has been called by the different names of idea, phan- 
tasm, species, image, and impression. But by whatever name 
it be called, it is that which is present to the soul when it per- 
ceives ; and indeed it is the only thing that the soul does per- 
ceive ; though for convenience sake, we say we perceive the 
object which ^ives it off. 

Thus we see that the hypothesis of soul gave rise to the 
hypothesis of ideas or images, as things distinct from the per- 
ceiving soul and tbe external objects said to be perceived. 
Now says Mr. Hume, we have no evidence at all, and 
never can have any, that any thing more exists than the per- 
ceiving thing, and the images or impressions perceived. We 
talk about the sun, moon, and other objects without us, but 
we can have no evidence that there are any such things — 
we do not see them, we do not feel them — the seeing, feeling 
thing perceives nothing but images or impressions, which may 
— for aught any one can say to the contrary — exist indepen- 
dent of any thing more gross and substantial ; and it is quite 
beneath a philosopher to admit the existence of any thing of 
which there is no evidence. Indeed, Mr. Hume did not 
stop here ; but so far as I can learn from other authors, his 
train of reasoning proceeded thus : — As to the existence of 
matter or body, it is entirely out of the question, it is what no 
reasonable man or philosopher can possibly think of contend- 
ing for. There is nothing in nature but mind and perceptions 
of mind — perceptions diversified, indeed, by being sometimes 
stronger, and sometimes weaker, and which may on this ac- 
count be properly distinguished by the names of impressions 
and ideas. But how do we know that there is any mind — - 
bow do we know that there is any thing but impressions and 
ideas ? This is the utmost we can know, and even this we can- 
not know to a certainty : for no body but fools will pretend 
certainly to know or believe any thing. These ideas and 
impressions follow each other, and are therefore conjoined; 
but we have no proof that there is any necessary ^orn^exion 
between them. They are a " bundle of perceptions" that sue- 

44 



426 

cecd earh other with inconceivable rapidit}', and are in pei' 
petiial flux; and hence I invs^if of to day. am no more I 
mysell of to-morrow, than I am Nebuchadnezzar or Cleopa- 
tra. See Good's Book of Nature, voi. 2, p. 246. 



■oo- 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A Refutation of Prof esso?' Stewart'^ s Argument for the existence 
of Soul or Mind*^ 

" The notions we annex to the words matter and mind, as 
is well remarked by Dr. Reid, are merely relative. If I am 
asked what I mean by matter, I can oniy explain myself by 
saying it is that which h extended, figured, coloured, movea- 
ble, hard, soft, rough or smooth, hot or cold — that is, 1 can 
define it in no other way than by enumerating its sensible 
qualities. Jt is not matter or body which 1 perceive by my 
senses ; [so said Mr, Hume !] but only extension, figure, co- 
lour, and certain other qualities, which the constitution of my 
nature [rather an ambiguous expression] leads me <o refer to 
someihfng that is extended, figured and coloured. The case 
is precisely the same with respecl to mind. We arc not im- 
mediately conscious of its existence ; but we are conscious 
ot sensation, thought and voJitioir ; operations which imply 
the existence of something whi'.h feels, thinks, and wills. 
Every man too, is impressed wiih an irresistible conviction 
that all these sensations, thought!! aiid volitions, belong to one 
and the same being, to that being which he calls himsrif ; a 
being which he is led, hy \\\v. constilntion of his nature, to con- 
sider as something digtirct from his t)ody, and not liable 
to be impaired by the loss or mutdation of any of his organs. 

* Having never seen Dr. Reid's Essi<y on the Aciive Powers of 
IVfan. I know not whether this aryiment for the exisienre Ot'mind 
cueht to he credited to him, or to professor Stewart ; hut this 1 
consider of little co is' quence - nof rei>ard;ng[ the ar^umenr as cre- 
ditable to anv philosopher. 1 find it ill Stewart's Philosophy of 
the Human Mind, p. 10. 



427 

" From these considerations, it appears ihat we have the 
same evidence of the existence of miud, that we have of the 
existence of matter, — nay, if there be any ditference between 
the two cases, that we have stronger evidence for it, inas- 
muth as the one [ilie mind] is sug^^e&ted to us by the svljects 
of our consciousness, and tiie other merely by the objects of 
our i^jcrceptiofis.'' 

Well, reader, what do yon think ? Yon mn?t know that al- 
most all men whose opmiojis conceriniig the subject are of 
m'lch weight, (! mean physologists.) are decidedly of the 
opinion that there is no such mnid in existence as Stewart 
speaks of ; and yet of the two, it is rather more evident that 
there is, than that there is any thing withoni our skulls,— we 
are taught eio hy the constitution of our naturts. 

It appears very clear to me, that when profpssor vStewart 
wrote the foregoing passages, he did not think of every thmg 
thai relates to the subject ; or else he was endeavoring — and 
knowingly too — to support a feeble cause by sophistry. He 
is all wrong, — so completely so, I scarcely know where to 
begfii wsth him. 

I defi.ie matter, a comhinaiion of ^ properties : — take from 
any kind of maiter, the property of extension and impenetra- 
bility, and every othei property that may he present, and no- 
tljmg would remain. And he that asserts that matter is some 
iinknowji thing distinct from the properties winch it is said to 
possess, asserts that, in support of which there is not the least 
shadow of evidence, — we defy him to bring the least little. 
But Stewart says that he can detir.e matter in no other way, 
than by saying it is that which is exiended. figured, coloured, 
moveable, hard, sot't, &:c. Well, then, let us take this defi- 
nition of ;natter — let it be remembered that whatever is ex- 
tended, figured, moveable. &:c. is matter. Now Stewart ad- 
mits that he can perceive extension, figure, colour, hardness, 
&c. by his senses, and yet says he cannot perceive matter !* 
Is not this — 1 seriously ask — is not this a mere quibble ? Yea, 
to be sure, the existence of a soul to be proved by a quibble. 
Berause the grammatical construction of our language is such 

* Accordmii to ilii* doctrine, the proposition, a stone, is mailer^ 
mid ma'i pHVceii e.s a stone, is a fulse one Either a man does not 
pptceive a sione, or else a stone is not matter— a strange perversion 
of language this, to say no .nore. 



428 

that we cannot speak of the properties of matter^ without 
speaking as though these properties belong to something be- 
sides what they constitute; it is taken for granted that this 
something has a real existence ; and by it the existence of a 
soul is to be demonstrated even more plainly than the nose 
upon your face. We are told — what we flatly deny, and 
challenge the asserter to prove — that this something, this 
" essence of matter." or '* matter itself," does really exist, 
although we can neither see, hear, feel, taste, or smell it ; cr- 
go^ a soul exists, although we can neither see, hear, feel, taste 
or smell it ! A fii)e way of reasor)ing this, for those who cry 
out against hypotheses and begging questions. 1 might as 
well say, giants exist, although no man ever saw or felt a 
giant ; therefore Tom Thumbs exist. 

Let us examine the professor's reasoning, bit by bit. — " We 
are not," says he, " immediately conscious of the existence 
of mind, but we are conscious of the existence of something 
which feels, thinks, and wills." Granted. " Every man 
too, is impressed with an irresistible conviction that all these 
sensations, thoughts, and volitions, belong to one and the same 
being." Granted. "To a being which he calls himself." 
Granted. " A being which he is led, by the constitution of 
his nature^ to consider as something distinct from his body." 
False. '' And not liable to be impaired by the loss or mutj- 
lation of Gr?iy of his organs." False. 

Stewart may speak for himself, and I will speak for myself* 
For my own part, T am not led by the constitution of my na- 
ture, to consider that being which 1 call myself as something 
distinct from my body ; and I have a '* shrewd suspicion" that 
fny readers will say the same for themselves. If so, it will 
appear that the constitution of Stewart'' s nature is rather an 
odd one. 

As to myself being impaired by the loss or mutilation of 
any of my organs," I grant that the loss of my toes or my 
ears would not destroy my personal identity, or my belief 
that I am the same man that did a certain deed ten years 
ago ; but I have a very shrewd suspicion that that part of me 
which thinks, that part in which my inward identity is to be 
found, would be very much impaired if my brain should be 
crushed. 

Before T proceed any farther, it is best to show what Stew- 
art means by the word soul or the word mind, (as all philoso- 



429 

phers, so far as I know, mean the same thing by either word,) 
for it sometimes happen? that when a reasoner finds that he 
cannot go forward, he attempts to back out, by altering the 
meaning of a word. Stewart means by the word mind or 
soul, an immaterial thinking thing-wlwch exists independent 
of the body, though in the body while it is alive ; and which 
may fly away and think independent of the body, of course 
after the body is dead. He does not say explicitly that it is 
extended or unextended — ''whether it be seated in the brain, 
or spread over the body by diffusion ;" but as immaterialists 
generally admit that the mind is unextended. and located in 
the brain, and as Stewart does not advance a different opin- 
ion, we may fairly conclude that he considered the mind as 
unexpended and seated m the brain."* 

Should a man say that, whatever thinks is mind — why, in 
this way, he could show that mind exists ; and m this way he 
might make out that every name has its thing. He may 
say (hat the word giant is not a name without a thing, but that 
giants exist. I may dispute him,af)d after much disputation, 
he may end the controversy by saying he means by giant, a 
man about six feet in height, who weighs about 160 pounds. 
When by argument, I compel my antagonist to use a word in 
a different sense from what he did at the commencement, I 
consider him as vanquished. — The mind is a thinking thing 
which has a being independent of the body, or there is no 
mind. To say (hat the mind is the brain or the sensorium, or 
the sensorial tendencies, or the conscient actions of the ner- 
vous system, is to force on us an old word which has been us- 
ed as the name of a thing which does not exist, and to beg of 
us to admit that it means something, when there is nothing 
for it to be the name of, — nothing but what has got other and 
more appropriate names. 

Stewart says, that of the two, we have stronger evidence of 
the existence of mind, than of the existence of matter, inas- 
much as the former is suiyjgested to us by the subjects of tur 
consciousness ; and the latter merely by the objects of our per^ 

* In Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind, p. 47, he makes 
the following remark — '' This phrase of ' the soul bfinw present 
to the images of external objects,' has been used by mnny philoso- 
phers, since the rime of Des Cartes ; evidently from a desire to 
avoid the absurdity of supposing images of extension and figure 
can exist in an uncxUnded mind.'* 



430 

ceptions. This is as much a? to say. the existence of mind is 
. sutigesied to n? !>y tlie suh^ects of our consciosisn«^ss ; where- 
as we have no evidence of ihe existence of a horse, for in- 
stance, hut mere!} that we see, feel, and often iiear, a hoise ! \ 

I will not a( present fakfe into cotisideration ^he expression, 
'* subjects of our consciousness;" hut recnark that Steward 
ao[>ears to have considered con'^csousiiess as ahsohne proof ol 
the existence of mind; that is, of an immaterial thinkwig thing 
which exists i independent of the hody. But what is con- 
sciousness ? A co.nscient action of the two extremities o* a 
nerve, is cot>scious>;ess ; or a coiiscient action of tlie senso- 
rium, alone, is consciousness — to sense, to perceive, or to 
think, is to he consc]ou> : there is no consciousness, when a 
mail neither sees, hears, feels, tastes, srneiN. nor thirdcs. Now 
in the name of truth, 1 most humbly ask if the simple act of 
thinking anj thought, seeing any object, feels n-g any hodj. &;c. ; 
does inform us what thinks ? — inform us to such a degree of 
tertainty, that we can rio more doubt, that an immaferial, in- 
dependent mind think>?, than we can doubt the existence of a 
horse when we see and feel a hoise ! 

By knowing the effects of diseases and injuries of the brain, 
and of divers experiments on the nervous system — in short, 
by what knowledge ( have of the animal economy, and of 
things in general, 1 am convinced that the brain thiidii?; 
but by the simple act of thinking any thought, or experien- 
cing any sensation, 1 cannoi tor my life deiermme the precise 
part of it which thmks. My conscionsnej^s does not inform 
one whether it be the medulla oblo7igata, the thalami nervorum 
oplicorum^ the pineal gland, or some other particular part. 
B<it my reason tells me — that is, by thinking over certain 
harmonizing facts relitive to the subject, I believe — that 
thifjking goes on somewhere in the lower and central part of 
the brain. 

Had Stewart defined mind — rvhatever it. be that thinks, oris 
conscious, then consciousness would have been the same evi- 
dence of the existence of mind, thaf he has supposed it to be. 
But as Stewart and other immaterialists consider the mind as 
some immaterial thinking thmg, -distinct from the body, con- 
sciousness or thinking is not the least whit of evidence of the 
existence of any such mind, and of course, no evidence of the 
existence of any mind. 

As to the existence of mind being suggested to us by the 



431 

suhjects of our Consciousness^ I would inquire what are the 
subjects of our cousciousness ? When a man thinks, what, I 
ask, is the subject of his const^iousness ? fs it the sensorium or 
the man who is conscious ; oris it the action of the sensonum 
which constitutes the consciousness; or is it the external ob- 
ject which tirst excited (hfs action? 

Excepting these three things. 1 defy any man to show that 
it can be anything at all. Nosv we cannot suppose that 
Stewart beheved that a man's hrain is the subject of his con- 
sciousness for ^^5 brain is one subject, but Stewart speaks of 
subjects. Ifwe say that the conscient action of the brain is 
the subject of the man's consciousness, then t[«e same thing 
not only constitutes consciousness, but is the suhjtct of con- 
sciousness. Fmaiiy, if there be any meaning in the expres- 
sion " subjects of our consciousness." these subjects must be 
things which we think of, or think about, and these are the 
precise things tha are the "objects of our perceptions," in 
almost all cases. And I must confess that a stone, or any 
tliJifr else which I think about, goes as far in convincing Qie 
that I have a soul or mind, as the simple act of thinki g. 

In this place 1 may notice jm anecdote which 1 once saw 
in the Boston Recorder — an anecdote in which there is no- 
thing solid but something specious — though I have reason to 
think that some short-sighted persons ihought it contained an 
irrefragable repartee, l can on'y relate it as 1 can remember 
it. It was in substance as follows: — 

A physician asked a methodist preacher if he ever saw a 
soul? Nj. Did you ever hear a siou! ? No. Did )ou ever 
taste a soul? No. Did you ever smell a soul? No. Did 
you ever feel a soul? Yes. Well, says the physician, there 
are four evidences against one that there is no soul. Satd 
the preacher m his turn. Did you ever see a pain ? No. Did 
you ever hear a pain ? No. Did you ever taste a pain ? No. 
Did you ever smell a pain ? No. Did you ever feel a pain? 
Yes. Well, says the preacher there aie four evidences 
against one that there is no pain, yet you know there is {.iain, 
and I know there is a soul. 

We here see thai the oreacher commits the same blunder 
that Stewart has done ; he not only takts consciousness, as 
proof that consciousness exists — a thing that no man will de- 
ny, but he makes consciousness a proof that a sou! (-xists, 
when it is not the least whit of evidence of any such thing. 



432 

We clo not ie)] fbe preacher that he did not know that some- 
thing feels, thinks. &:r. ; but that he did not know whether 
this something be a nnaterial organ or an immaterial thing of 
which no man can ever have any idea. 



■000- 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

Professor Lawrence^s Lecture on the Functions of the Brain 

As the opinions of Professor Lawrence concerning the con- 
stitution of man, are — with the exception of other physiolo- 
gists — of mote weight than the opinions of all the world be- 
sides ; we think his lecture on the functions of the brain can- 
not fail of being highly interesting to most of our readers. 
Therefore we shall give it in his own words, without addition 
or substraction : — it stands in no need of comment. 

" There would be little inducement to compare together 
the various animal structures, to follow any apparatus thro' 
the whole animal series, unless the structure were a measure 
and criterion of the function. Just in the same proportion 
as organization is reduced, life is reduced ; exactly as the 
organic parts are diminished in number and simplified, the 
vital phenomena become fewer and more simple : and each 
function ends, when the respective organ ceases. This is 
true throughout zoology; there is no exception in behalf of 
any vital manifestations. 

" The same kind of facts, the same reasoning, the same sort 
of evidence altogether, which show digestion to be the func- 
tion of the alimentary canal, the motion of the muscles, and 
various secretions of their respective glands, prove that sen- 
sation, perception, memory, judgment, reasoning, thought — 
in a word, all the manifestations called mental or intellectual, 
-^are the animal functions of their appropriate organic appa- 
ratus, the central organ of the nerv ous system. No difficulty 
Dor obscurity belongs to the latter case, which does not equal- 
ly affect all the former instances : no kind of evidence con- 
iiects the hvmg processes with the material instruments in the 



433 

©iie which does not apply just as clearly and forcibly to the 
other. 

" Shall I be told that thought is inconsistent with matter 5 
that we cannot conceive how medullary subslance can per- 
ceive, remember, judge, reason ? I acknowledge that we are 
entirely ignorant how the parts of the brain accomplish these 
purposes — as we are how the liver secretes bile, how the mus- 
cles contract, or how any other living purpose is eifected ;-— 
as we are how heavy bodies are attracted to the earth, how 
iron is drawn to the magnet, or how two salts decompose 
each other. Experience is. in all these cases, our sole, if not 
sufficient instructress : and the constant conjunction of phe- 
nomena, as exhibited in her lessons is the sole ground for af- 
firming a necessary connexion between them. If we go be- 
yond this, and come to inquire the maimer how, the mecha- 
nism by which these things are effected, we shall fiitd every 
thing around us equally mysterious, equally incomprehensi- 
ble — from the stone which falls to the earth, to the comet 
traversing the heavens, — from the Ihread attracted by amber 
or sealing wax, to the revolutions of planets in their orbits, — 
from the formation of a mag^jjot in putrid flesh, or a mite in 
cheese, to the production of a Newton or a Franklin. 

" in opposition to these views, it has been contended that 
thought is not an act of the brain, but of an immaterial sub- 
stance, residing in or connected with it. This large and cu- 
rious structure, which, in the human subject, receives one 
fifth of all the blood sent out from the heart, which is so pe- 
culiarly and,delicately organized, nicely enveloped in sucres- 
sive membranes, and securely lodged in a solid bony case, is 
left almost without an office, being barely allowed to be ca- 
pable of sensation. It has, indeed, the easiest lot in the ani- 
mal economy : it is better fed, clothed and lodged than any 
other part, and has less to do. But its office — only one re- 
move above a sinecure — is not a very honorable one : it <s a 
kind of porter, entrusted to open the door, and introduce 
new comers to the master of the house, v\ ho takes on hiniself 
the entire charge of receiving, entertaining, and employmg 
them. 

'' Let us survey the natural history of the human mind, — 
its rise, progress, various fates, and decay ; and then judge 
whether these accord best with the hvpotliesis of an immale- 
lial agent, or with the plain dictates of common sense, and 

55. 



434 

Ibe analop^y of every other organ and function throughout the 
boiinnless ex'ent of liviisg beings. 

"' Yon must bnng to this physiological question a sincere 
an«1 earnest love of truth ; disiDissiog from }oijrminf)s all the 
prejudices and alarms which have been so indusliiously con- 
nected tMtti it. If you enter on the inquiry m ihc S}>irit of 
the bigot and |>ar(i>an, suffering a f loud of fears and hopes, 
desires aid h> t riiion. to hang ai(Mind your understandiiigs, you 
^dl never discern objects citsirly ; the ir colours shapes, di- 
mensions, will be confused, distoifed. arid obscured b\ the in- 
tellectua! mist. Our busniess is, to mqmre what is (rue ; 
not what is the finest theory ; riol what will supply the be£t 
topics of pretty compositioi^ and eloquent dec lamatfon, ad- 
dressed to the prejudices, the passions, and «he ignorance of 
our hearers. We need not L'\r the result of investigation. 
Truth is like a native rustic beauty ; mos^ loveiy when una- 
dorned arid seen in the open Isght of day. Your fi-e hypoth- 
eses and specious theories are hke the unforturiale females 
^^'ho supply the want or loss of native charms, aud repair the 
breacltes of age or disease, by paint, tinery, asid decorations ; 
wh'ch can only be exhibited in the glaring ligl t , tht art ti- 
cial atmosphere, and the unnatural stenery of the theatre or 
saloon. Whenever it is thoroughly discussed, truth will not 
fail to corne hke tried gold from the tire. Like Ajax, it re- 
quires nothing but day-light and fair play. 

" Reason and free inqusry are the only etiVctual antidotes 
of error. Give them full scope, and they will t][)hold the 
truth, b} bringing false opinions, and all the spurious otlspr ng 
of ignorance, prejudice, and self in'erest, btfore the severe 
tribimal, and subjecling them lo the test of close investiga- 
tion. Error alone needs artiticial support: Irullj can stand 
by itself. 

" Sir Everard Home, with the assistance oi Mr. Bauer aud 
bis microscope has shown us a man eight cia}s old fron^ the 
time of conception, — nbout as broad and a htile longerlhan 
a pin's head. He satisti( d hrnself ihat the brain of this hn- 
munculus was discernible. Could the insmattrial mind have 
been coni»ected with it at this tiuie ? or was the tenement 
too small even for so etherial a lodger ? At the full period of 
utero-gestation it is still d tficult to trace any vestige of mind ; 
and the believers in its separate existence have left us qtnte 
in the dark on the precise time at which ihe spiriiual guest 



435 

arrives in bis corporeal dwelling, the interesting and impor- 
tant moment of amHi^amHlion or coinbiiiiition oj the earthly 
du^t and ttie etherial es^senre. The Roman Catholic church 
has cut the knot, which no one else could untie ; and has de- 
cided that the little mortal, on its pas^agc^ into thss world of 
trouble, has a soul (o be saved ; it accordingly directs and 
authorizes mKiwives. in cases of ditiicult labor, where the 
death of the infant is appreiie.ided, to baptise it by means of 
a sNringe introduced into the vagina, and thus to save it from 
perdition ! ! ! 

*' Tiiev whose scruples are not quite set at rest by the above 
mentioned decision of the church, nor by being told thaT the 
miod has not yet taken up its quarters in the brain, endeavor 
to account for the entire absence of mental phenomena at the 
time of birth, by the senses antj brain not havnig been yet 
called into action by the impressions of external objects. 

"* These orji,ans oegin to be exerosed hs '^oon as the child 
is born : and a fa/nt glimmering of msid is dnnly perceived 
in the course of the tirst moniljs of existence : but it is as 
weak and infantile as the bodj^, 

'' A>^ the senses acquire their powers, and the cerebral jel- 
ly becomes tinner, the mind gradually strengthens ; slowly 
advances, with the body, ihroiigh childhood to puberty ; and 
becomes adult when the devetopement of the frarie is com- 
plete ; it is, moreover, male or female, according to the sex 
of the body. In the perfect period of organization, the mind 
is seen in the plenitude of its powers ; but this state of full 
vigor is short in duration, boih for the intellect and the cor- 
poreal fabric. Tae wear and tear of the latter is evidenced 
in its mental movements: with the decline of orgmizatiori 
the mind decays ; it becomes decrepit with the body ; and 
both are at the same time extinguished by death. 

'* What do we infer from this succession of phenomena ? 
the existence and action of a principle entirely distinct from 
body ? or. a close analogy to the history of all other organs 
and functions ? 

'' The number and kind of the intellectual phenomena in 
different animals correspond closely to (he degree oldevei- 
opement of the bram. The mind of the Negro and Hotten- 
tot, of the Calmuck and the Canb, is inferior to that of the 
Euiopean ; and their organization is also less p(;rfect. The 
large cranium and high forehead of the orang-utaug lift him 



436 

above his brother monkey? ; but <he developement of hii 
cerebral hemit^pheres anci ii.-, mental manifestations are both 
equally below those of the Negro. The gradation of organ- 
ization and of mind passes through the monkey, dog. elephant, 
horse, to other quadrupeds ; thence to birds, reptiles, and 
fishes ; and so on to the lowest links of the animal chain. 

"■ li) ascending these steps of one ladder, following in regu- 
lar succession at equal intervals, where shall we find the 
boundary of unassisted organization ? Where place the begin- 
ning of the immaterial adjuact? hi that view which assimi- 
lates the functions of the brain to those of other organic parts, 
th's case has no difficulty. As the structure of ihe brain is 
more exquisite, perfect, and complex, its functions ought to 
be proportionally so. It is no slight proof of the doctrine 
now enforced, that the fact is actually thus : that the mental 
powers of brutes, so far as we can see, are proportional to 
their organization. 

*' We cannot deny to animals all participation in rational 
endowments, without shutting our eyes to the most obvious 
facts ; to indications of reasoning which the unprejudiced ob- 
servation of mankind has not failed to recognise and appre- 
ciate. Without adverting to the well known instances of 
comparison, judgment, and sagacity in the elephant, the dog, 
and many other animals, let us read the character drawn by 
Humboldt of the South American mules : ' When the mules 
feel themselves in danger, they stop, taming iheir head^ to 
the right and to tlie left. The motion of their ears seems to 
indicate that they reflect on the decision they ought to take. 
Their resolution is slow, but always just if it be free; that is 
to sav, if it be not crossed or hastened by the imprudence of 
the traveller. It is on the frightful roads of the Andes, dur- 
ing long journies of six or seven months, across mountains 
furrowed by torrents, that ihe intelligence of horses and beasts 
of burthen displays itself in an astonishing manner. Thus 
the mountaineers are heard to say, I will not give you the 
mule whose stej) is the easiest, but him who reasons the best.' 
If the intellectual phenomena of man require an immaterial 
principle superadded to the brain, we m ist equally concede 
it to those more rational anitnals which exhibit manifestations 
differing from some of the human only in decree. If we grant 
it to these we cannot refuse it to the next in order, and so on 
in successioa to the whole series ; to the oyster, the sea aue-; 



437 

mone, the polype, ihe microscopic animalcules. Is anyone 
prepared to admit ihe existence of iminaterial principles in all 
these cases? If not he must equally reject it in man. 

'* It is admitted that an ideot with a mal-formed brain, has 
no mind : that the sagacious dog, and half-reasonable ele- 
phant do not require any thing to be superadded to their brain : 
it is allowed that a dog or elephant excels inferior animals, 
in consequence of possessing a more perfect cerebral struc- 
ture ; it js strongly suspected that a Newton or a Shakspeare 
excels other mortals only by a more ample developement 
of the anterior cerebral lobes ; by having an extra inch of 
brain in the right place ; yet the immHterialists will not con- 
cede Ihe obvious corollary of all these admissions, viz. that 
the mind of man is merely that more perfect exhibition of 
mental phenomena which the more complete developement 
of the brain would lead us to expect ; and still perplex us with 
the gratuitous difficulty of their immaterial hypothesis.— 
Thought (it is positively and dogmatically asserted) cannot 
be an act of matter. Yet no feeling, no thought, no intellec- 
tual operation, has ever been seen except in conjunction with 
a brain ; and living matter is acknowledged by mo-t persons 
to be capable of what makes the nearest possible approach to 
thinking. The strongest advocate for nnmaterialism seek$ 
no further than the body for his es[)lanation of all the vital 
processes of muscular contractiosi, nutrition, secretion, &g., 
operations quite as diiFerent from any affection ofinorgaiiC 
substance, as reasoning or thought: he will even allow the 
brain to be capable of scjisation. 

'' Who knows the capabslities of matter so perfectly, as to 
be able to say, that it can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel, but 
cannot possibly reflect, imagine, judge ? Who has appreciat- 
ed them so exactly, as to be able to decide that it can exe- 
cute the mental functior<s of an elephant, a dog, or an ourang- 
outang, but cannot perform those of a Negro or a Hottentot? 
To say that a thing of mereK negative properties, that is, aa 
immaterial substance, which is neither evidenced by any di- 
rect testimony, nor by any indirect proof from its effects, 
does exist and can think, is quite consistent in those who de- 
ny thought to animal structures, where we see it going on 
every day ! 

" If the mental processes be not the funtions of the brain, 
what IS its office? In animals which possess only a smaii part 



438 

of <he human rerehml structure, sensation exists, and In many 
case^ JS mote arnU ihan in man : what employment shall we 
fijid for all <hat fnan possesses over and above this portion — 
for the large and prodij^ioiisly developed human hernispliere? '-. 
Are we to believe that these serve only to round the figure oi 
the organ, or to fill the craniuin '? 

'' ft is necessary for you to form clear opinions on this sub- 
ject, as it has immediate lefereitce to an important branch ot 
pathology. They who cojisider the mental operations as acts 
of an immaterial beini{, and thus disconnect the sound state 
of the mind from ord:anizalion, act very consistently in dis- 
joining insanity also from the corj)oreal structure, and in re- 
pre*;en<^ing it as a disease not of the brain, but of the mind. 
Thus we come to disease of an immaterial being! for which, 
suitably enoui^h, moral Irearment has been recommended. 

•' I tirmly beheve, 0[) the contrary, thai the various forms 
of insanity — th;>t all the aifectfons comprehended under the 
'general terms of mental derangement — are only evidences of 
cerebral affe-ctions, dij^ordered manifestations of those organs 
whose healthy action produces the plienomena called men- 
tal ; in short, symptoms of diseased bran). 

'" These symptoms have the same relation to the brain, as 
vomiting, itidigestion, heart burn, to the stomach; cough, 
asthma, to the lungs ; or aisy other deranged functions to their 
correspondent organs, 

" If the biliary secretion be increased, diminished, sus- 
pended, or altered, we have no hesitation in referring to chan- 
ges in the condition of the hver, as the imnjediate cause of 
these phenomena. We explain the state ot" respiration, whe- 
ther slow, hurried, impeded by cough, spastn, &c. by the va- 
rious conditions of the lungs and otht^r parts concerned in 
breathing. These explanations are deemed perfectly satis- 
factory. 

*' What should we think of a person who told us that the 
organs liave nothing to do with the business; that cholera, 
jaundice, hepatitis, are diseases of an immaterial hepatic be- 
ing; that asthma, cough, consumption, are atfections of a sub- 
tile pulmonary matter ; or that in both cases the disorder 
is not in bodily organs, but in a vital principle? If such a 
statement would be deemed too absurd for any serious com- 
ment in the derangement of the liver, lungs, and other organ- 
ic pails, how can it be received m the brain ? 



439 

"The very persons who use this langnagje of diseases of 
the mind, speak and reason correctly respecting the other af- 
fectiotis of the hrain. When it is conapressed hy a piece of 
bone, or etfused blood or seruna, and when all intellectual 
phenonaena are more or le«s completely suspe;:ded, they do 
not say that the mind is squeezed. tha( the immatena! prin- 
ciple suffers pressure. For the ravines of delirujin and phren- 
zv. the excitation and subsequent stupor of mtoxication, ihey 
find ail adequate explanatioh m the slate ot the ( cebral Cir- 
culation, without fancying that the mind is deliriou>, mad, or 
drur)k. 

'' In these cases the seat of the disease, the cause of the 
symptoms, is too obvious to e>cape notice. In many forms 
of insanity, the atfeciion of the cerebral organization is less 
stroniJjly marked, slower in its progress, but {generally ver> re- 
cognizable, and abundantlv sufficient to explain the diseased 
manifestation,-- -to afford a material orgnnic canst- for the 
phenomena — for the augmented or diminished energy, or the 
altered nature of the various feelings and intellectual facul- 
ties. 

" I have examined after death the heads of many insane 
persons, and have hardly seen a single brain which did not 
exhibii obvious marks of disease ; in recent ca>es, loaded ves- 
sels, increased serous secretions: in all instances of longer 
duration, unequivocal signs of present or past increased ac- 
tion : blood vessels apparently more numerous, membranes 
thickened and opaque, depositions of coagulabie l)m| >h fonn- 
ing adhesions or adventitious membranes, watery effuMons, 
even abscesses : add to ihis. the insane ofien become para- 
lytic, or are suddenly cut off by apoplexy. 

" Sometimes, indeed, the mental phenomena are disturbed 
without any visible deviation from the lieahhv structure of 
the brain : as digestion or biliary secretion may be unpaired 
or alteied without any recognizable change of slructure in 
the stomach or liver. The brain, lil^e oth( r parfs of this 
complicated machine, may be diseased synripathetically ; and 
we see it recover. 

" Thus we find the brain, like other parts, subject to what 
is called functional disorder^ but, aithough we cannot actu- 
ally demonstrate the tact, we no more doubt that the material 
cause of the symptoms or external siijns of disease is in ihss 
organ, than we do that impaired biliary secieiion has its 



440- 

source in the liver, or faulty digestion in the stomach. The' 
brain does not often r.ome under the inspection of the anato- 
mist, in such cases of functional disorder; and lam convin- 
ced, from my own experience, that very few heads of persons 
d)ing deranged will be examined after death, without show- 
ing diseased structure, or evident signs of increased vascular 
activity. 

" The effect of medical treatment completely corroborates 
these views. Indeed, they who talk of and l)elievein diseas- 
es of the mind, are too wjse to put their trust in mental reme- 
dies. Arguments, syllogisms, discourses, sermons, have nev- 
er yet restored any patient ; the moral pharmacopceia is 
quite inefficient ; and no real benefit can be conferred with- 
out vigorous medica! treatment, which is as efficacious as in 
the diseases of any other organ. 

" In thus drawing your attention to the physiology of the' 
brain, I have been influenced not merely by the intrinsic in- 
terests and importance of the subject, but by a wi*h to exem- 
plify (he aid which human and comparative anatomy and 
physiology are capable of affi^rding each other, and to show 
how the data furnished by both tend to illustrate pathology. 
I have purposely avoided noticing those considerations of the 
tendeticy of certain physiological doctrines, winch have some- 
times been industriously mixed up with these disquisitions. 
In defence of a weak cause, and in failure of direct arguments, 
appeals to the passions and prejudices have been indulged ; 
attempts have been made to fix public odium on the support- 
ers of this or that opinion ; and direct charges of bad motives 
and injurious consequences have been reintorced by all the 
arts of misrepresentation, insinuation, and inuendo. 

" To discover truth, and to represent it in the clearest and 
most intelligent manner, seem to me the only proper objects 
of physiological, or indeed of any other inquiries. Free dis- 
cussion is the surest way, not only to disclose and strengthen 
what is true, but to detect and expose what is fallacious. Let 
us not then pay so bad a com{)!iment to truth, as to use in its 
defence foul blows and unlawtui weapons. Its adversaries, if 
it has any, will be despatched soon enough without the aid of 
the stiletto and (he bowl. 

The argument against the expediency of divulging an opin- 
ion, although it may be true, from the possibility of its being 
perverted, has been so much hackneyed, so often employed 



441 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 



Some of the Difficulties that attend the Hypothesis of Soul, 
but do not attend the Doctrine of Materialism. 

One of the greatest absurdities ever admitted by men, is 
the existence of an unextended being. It is astonishing that 
any man of common sense, should give his assent to such 
a whim. We should think that before any man would ad- 
mit the existence of an unextended being, he would disregard 
all facts, — abandon all reasoning, and boldly assert that the 
soul is extended. Yet it appears that philosophers have 
not done this ; but have regarded the difficulties that attend 
the idea of the soul being extended, and freely admitted that 
it has neither parts nor extension. But passing by this diffi- 
culty, vye would ask where the soul comes from ? — Oh, from 
the celestial regions, to be sure. Well, then, is it a part of 
the immaterial Deity himself— who by the by we must sup- 
pose to be unextended and destitute of parts ; for if the want 
of the property of extension be essential to the immateriality 
of one being, it must be to another — or is it something made 
by the Deity ? And if the latter, w^ere all souls made at the 
time the Deity created all thmgs, or are souls made as there 
is a demand for them ? — -which demand is sometimes greater, 
and sometimes less, as we may well suppose, — depending al- 
together on the accidents that befall certain individuals ! But 
if all souls were made at the time the Deity creaied ail things, 
what are they about before they enter human bodies ? It is 
probable that they can think before they enter the body ; if 
they cannot, what reason have we to suppose that they can 
after they fly away from it ? If our souls did think before they 
entered our bodies, they cannot remember that they did, now 
they are in our bodies ; and if our souls cannot remember in 
the body wdiat they thought out of it, why should we suppose 
that after they get out of it, they can remember what they 
thought while in it ? And if, after the soul gets out of the bo- 
dy, it cannot remember what it thought while in the body, 
why should it be rewarded or punished for what it made the 
body do ? It wouH be like punishing Sam for the deeds of 
Thomas ; or like punishing a man for deeds which he can 
have no idea of ever doing. Again, how can hell-iire, or any 
other agent, operate upon an unextended thing so as to re- 
ward it or punish it ? Do you tell me that there is no reward- 

56 



442- 

ii]g or punishing until after the body is reorganized ? Why,^ 
then, all this fuss and contention with reiicrionists about the 
existence of souls, since our future happiness, after all, de- 
pends on the reorganization of the body ? 

Are all souls originally alike ? If you say so, (hen you give 
organization nearly as much credit as the materialist contends 
for ; since it is difference of organization that makes all the 
difference between a Newton and an idiot, or a Newton 
and a fiea."^' If not alike, we cannot suppose it is a matter 
of indifference what soul enters this or that infant's l.rain ; 
and the question arises : whaf sorts out and directs the pro- 
per souls to the right brains, — the male souls to the male 
brains, and the female souls to the female brains ; the Hot- 
tentot souls to the Hottentot brains ; and the European souls 
to the European brains ? Do you say that God directs tliem ? 
Praj, what are your notions of the relation that subsists be- 
tween the Creator and the events of the universe ? Did not 
God so organize the universe that all natural events take 
place by virtue of this organization — though God is the first 
cause of all things, is he the immediate cause of any natural 
event ? docs the fire snap, does water run down hill, docs the 
brain think, because the Deity is continually exercising his 
influence to produce these events ? — is God, as it were, a 
slave to his own creation ? or, like a skilful artist, did he not 
so organize this wonderful machine, the universe, that it con- 
tinues in harmonious operation without his immediate ngen- 
Gy ; and will thus continue, until it be stopped by the same 
power that created it? Any other supposition but this last, 
would be absurd and degrading. Now the generation and^ 
growth of the material body, are natural events — tht:y are 
not miracles — we can trace their connexion with other natu- 

* Abernethy, in his very unsuccessful crusade against his brother 
professor a materialist, not only admits that the brain is as much 
an organ of thought, as the liver and stomach are organs for the se- 
cretion of bile and gastric juice, but s*3's : — '• It seems to me more 
reasonable to suppose that whatever is percepive [meaning his 
percipierif principle, which is but another nHme for soul,] may be 
variously atierted by means of vital actions transmitted throt^gh a 
diversity of organization, than to suppose that such variety dej)ends 
upon original differences in the nature of rhe percipient principle." 
See his Reflections on Gall and Spurzheim's System of Physiogno- 
my and Phrenology, P 75. to be found in the second volume of liis 
Surgical and Physiological works. 



443 

Tal events. But between the generation of a homunculus. 
and the starting ©r a sou] from the celestial reg.ons, we can 
trace no counexioi). — The soul JS!jtartecl and directed hy the 
immediate agency of the Dtiity, and of course, this event is a 
miracle. And a perfect and entire man, accordina; to the im- 
material hypothesis, is not altogether a natural production ; 
but he is brought into being, partly by natural operations, 
and partly by nuracle ! 

After the soul is snugly nested in the brain, what does it 
do? Answer, it perceives, thinks, judges, &;c. Now beasts, 
birds, fish, and insects, perceive, and almost all of them evi- 
dently think ; and to think is essentially the same, as we 
have shown, as to judge, reason, &c. — judgmg is but a mode 
of thinking ; and animals judge differesitiy, because they pos- 
sess diiferent sensorial tendencies. Now what will you do 
with the souls of beasts, tish, and msects ? If the soul be ne- 
cessarily, and in its very nature immortal, then ail souls must 
continue to live, (if any body can tell what the life of a soul 
consists in,) whether in the body or out. But if the soul be 
not naturally immortal — and we have not even scripture tes- 
timony tiiat it is — what reason has it for flattering itself that 
it will exist and be conscious after the body is dead, any more 
than the body has for believing that it will exist in a future 
state — which body has the assurance of scripture, at least, 
that it will be reorganized. 

How does the soul seated in the brain, perceive objects ex- 
terior to the body, and in many instances quite distant frona 
it ? You have already seen that some supposed that the soul 
quits the body, and flies to the object ; and others, that some 
image, species, or phantasm, flies from the object and enters 
the brain, to be present to the soul : which last supposition 
is the branch that gave rise to the sceptical philosophy of 
Berkley and Hume. But if it should be said that when a 
man sees, (to say nothing of other perceptions,) rays of light 
excite an action in his optic nerves and brain, and this action 
of the brain excites an action or change (no matter which 
word you use,) of the unextended soul — yes, an «ch"rm of an 
imexiendcd soul !- and that this action constitutes the seeing ; 
I would ask why we should not say that the actions of the 
optic nerves and brain constitute the seeing, and not suppose 
the existence of an inconceivable somethmg of which there 
is no evidence, — It is just as conceivable that an action of aB 



444 

organ constitutes a sensation or a thought, as that an aciion 
of something else consl; lutes a thougiit. 

Again, how does a thing which possesses no parts, sec, hear, 
and think, at the same time ? Diiferent parts of an extended 
thing, may exist in diiferent states, or take on different ac- 
tions, at the same time; but if a certain state or action of an 
unextended thing be essential to the existence of a certain 
sensation, and another state or action, to the existence of a 
certain other sensation ; then it is absolately impossible for 
this unextended thing to be at one time in such state as (o 
constitute both these sensations : but we can sec, Iiear, feel, 
and even think, at the same time. — Remember what is said 
in the chapter on sensation and perception. 

Furthermore, if an unextended soul, seated in ihe head, be 
that which is conscious, how does consciousness or feeling — 
which is generally a much higiicr degree of consciousness 
than mere thinking — exist in the foot, or any other member; 
and this too even while thinking is going on in the head>? No- 
thing can be conscious where it is not, any more than 7Dhen it 
is not ; now we know that we often experience feelings in 
different parts of our bodies at times when the soul cannot be 
in such parts; for thinking is at the time going on in our heads; 
and not only this, but an unextended thing cannot be in two 
different parts of our bodies — to say nothing of the head — at 
the same time. Should any one have the hardihood to as- 
sert that the soul extends throughout all nervous iamifications 
that lake on conscient actions, or in other words, possess sen- 
sibility; 1 would just ask him to imagine what a queer shaped 
thiiig it is, and how it would look, if by some chemical agent 
the nervous system should be dissolved, and the soul at the 
same time be endowed with the power of reflecting light. 
Methinks it would look somewhat like a snarled skein of 
yarn, or a horse's tail that needed combing. I would ask. 
too, wdiat becomes of that part of the soul which is cut off 
when a man has a leg amputated! and what makes the soul 
grow, so as to keep pace with the growth and extension of 
nervous system ? 

The immaterialists have not informed us at what period 
the soul enters the brain; but those of modern times main- 
tain that when it does enter, it is as destitute of ideas as an 
unwritten sheet of paper is of words ; (and for my own part I 
cannot conceive how an unextended thing can ever contain 
or possess ideas, or any thing that can give rise to ideas ;) but 



445 

presently the brain begins to act upon it — now it is that it 
begitis to perceive, to have ideas, and to think ; and now it is 
that thej regard the soul as a fiddle, and the brain as the tid- 
dler that plays upon it — the perceptions, thoughts, &c., con- 
stituting the music. Bat after a time the child becomes a 
man, and the man becomes insane; the physician now pro- 
ceeds to bleed, blister, physic, and salivate, just as he does in 
other bodily diseases ; and finally cures the insanity ; or, the 
man dying, an obvious disease of his brain is discovered. The 
immaterialist now begins to reason. The soul, thinks he, is 
an immaterial, indivisible, imfnortai thing; now can we sup- 
pose that such a thing is ever sick ? or can we suppose that a 
sick soul, if there ever were such a thing, is to be cured by 
calomel, jaiap, and blistering plasters? No, this would be ab- 
surd — an immortal soul is never sick — tlie truth is, the brain 
is the instrument by which the soul operates; and when the 
instrument is out of order, the best musician in the world 
cannot play upon it so as to make harmonious music. Thus 
we see that at one time the immaterialists tell us that the 
brain plays upon the soul, at another, that the soul plays up- 
on the brain — first one is the fiddle and then the other, just as 
the d'.fliculties attending the immaterial hypothesis seem to 
require i^'" 

* Dr. John x\rmstroi]g, in his work on Fever, says, page 360, 
361," It might be shown by familiar facts, that the brain is the 
principal organ through wliich the operations of the mind are per- 
formed ; and it does not, as many have supposed, necessarily m- 
volve the doctrine of materialism to affirm, that certain disorders of 
that organ are capable of disturbing those operations. If the most 
skillfiil musician in the world were placed before an unstrung and 
broken instrument he could not produce the harmony which he was 
accustomed to when the instrument was perfect ; nay, on the con- 
trary, the sound would be discordant; and yet it would be mani- 
festly most illogical to conclude, from such an effect, that the pow- 
ers of the musician were impaired, since they merely appear to be 
so from the imperfection of the instrument. Now, what the instru- 
ment is to the musician, the brain may be to the mind, for aught 
we know to the contrary : and to pursue the figure, as the musi- 
cian has an existence distinct from the instrument, so the mind may 
have an existence dislinct from that of the brain ; f<^r in truth we 
have no proof whatever, of mind being a property dependent 
upon any arrangement of matter." It evidently never came into 
Armstrong's head that there is no such thing as mind. Had he 
said, we have no proof that a man's ability to think, is dependent 



44G 

Now, reader, as we have got through with the argumentative part 
^f this work, if you please, we'll have a i!t!!e chitchat together, 
and I will then leave you to your own cogitations. 1 presun»e you 
have been interested in perusing this work, or you would not have 
arrived to this place. I cannot believe you have used me so un- 
fairly as to tumble over the leaves, n-ading a little here and a little 
there, with no other view than to find something to refute or con- 
demn ; if you have, fire away ! but be careful that you do not 
shoot at a shadow—many a time has an author been combatted, 
because he was not atienfively read and rightly understood. But 
if you are a lover of truth, (as all profess to be,) and have been in- 
terested in perusing this wo.k, because you believed I was doing 
something to further the caiise of it ; you will be pleased, Ithink, 
to know a little more about me. and how I came to be such an in- 
fidel as lanj. — Now then you shall have a little bit of my history. 
As it respects the '' inner man," 1 am a sort of self-made creature, 
not yet 29 years of age. I suppose my books would excite more 
notice, were 1 some big professor, with a head of grey hairs upon 
tny shoulders ; but as I have all along endeavored to tell you the 
truth, boldli/, I do not intend to alter my hand now, for any pecu- 
niary consideration. At Templeton, this state, (Mass.) 1 was 
born and bred o farmer. My parents are still living. They never 
•enjoyed any advantages for acquiring knowledge, though I believe 
they possess pretty well organized brains. They brought me up in 
the '' fear of, the Lord," and, with much adoj taught me the West- 
minster Catechism, for I was a confounded dull scholar until 14 or 
15 years of age After this period I made some proficiency in fig- 
ures and the English grammar, considering my opportunities ; for 
I worked like a good fellow on the farm, at least 9 months in the 

on any arrangement or combination of matter, I could contradict 
him flatly, for we have just as much proof that it does, as we have 
that gold is yellow, heavy, and ductile. At page 362, he says, 
" Maddess is indeed an awful malady, and might at first sight con- 
vey the impression, that mind itself is liable to the changes and 
<lecay of oar material structure, but it surely onl}? shows the inti- 
mate connexion it has with matter : for I have seen no case of this 
distase in ivhich there were not previously the most distinct evi- 
dence of some disorder in the brain to which the madness might be 
vejhrrpd (u a consequence.^'' i adduce this last quotation as evi- 
dencej if further evidence be needed, that it is the brain that thinks. 
As to Dr, Armstrong, comparing the brain to a fiddle or any 
other musical instrument, we have no objections, but it is very 
strange that he should not be aware, that itis played upon by the 
impressions made upon our senses. 



447 

year, until 17 or }o years of age. From this age to tliat of 21V 
my health was such that J could noi labor. During this lime I 
spent nearly three months in an academy, where I studied the 
mathematics and the English language } and I [lever studied any 
other language under the tuition of an) one, witii the exception of 
Dr. Charles \dams, of Keene, N. H. Being under hi? care as a 
patient for a few weeks, he spent a few hours, during this time, in 
hearing my lei^sons? in the Latin grammar. A short time before i 
was 21,1 married. My father in law, Mr Richard Stuart, of Win- 
chendon, Mass. possessed Paine's Age ofReason, and spoke highly 
of ir ; but I rared not a fig for it — did not read it : 1 supposed it a 
bad book, and its author a very wicked man. Mr, Stuart, too, was, 
and still is, a materialist in reality ; but in those days I knew not 
what materialism is— f remember asking him one day what he 
supposed becomes of tiie soul v.'hen a person dies : he gave nie no 
answer but this : — What becomes of the blaze of a candle when 
you blow it out ? Soon after 21 years of age, I began to study med- 
icine, under very unpropiiious circumstances, first with Dr. Chijrles 
Wilder of Templeton ; then with Dr. Stephen Batchelier of Koy- 
alston : and lastly v.'ith Dr. Amos Tv»?itchell of Keene, N. H. — in 
the mean time attending two courses of medical lectures at Hano- 
ver, where I received the degree of M. D. 1824. While with Dr. 
Batcheller, I read Bichat's works. This author maintains that 
some of the passions have their seat in ih*^* thoracic and abdominal 
viscera, — a doctrine with winch I v\'as not satisfied. Here I began 
to cogitate concerning the constitution and phenomena of .man. 
So far as I can remember, 1 had a notion something like this : — 
That the soul or mind is nothing that comes fr(»m the celestial re- 
gions • but something which the br tin forms, or to which it gives 
rise, as the liver does to bile ; that ideas come by way of the sen- 
ses; and when they are in the mind, they are real ideas, or rather, 
the mind sees them or is conscious of their existence; but they soon< 
dodge out into some part of the brain ; but may be brought back 
again into the mind by the memory. I believ< d that the passions 
must have their seat in the nervous system, and that every man 
would believe so too, if it could be showii how th^y influence the 
action of the heart, the secretion of bile, &c. upon this supposition. 
This 1 thought I could do ; therefore I concluded to write my 
graduating thesis on the passions. Before I undertook to write this 
thesis, matters so turned out, that I was safely lodged in Worcester 
jail, for the no less heinous crime than that of being instrumental 
(as was supposed) in depriving a parcel of worms of their dinner. 
Here I was without books, excepting Good's Study of Medicine. 
At the time of entering the jail, where I ri-mained two months, I 
firmly believed in the existence of souls, and although 1 supposed 
thena to be formed by the brain, I believed that they may exist in- 



443 

dependent of it, as biie may exist intlependent of the liver. I be- 
lieved that something which I can call myself, wid exist in a slate 
of consciousness^ immediately as it respects time, after Ciiarles 
Knowlton dies. I did not kn^w that any man ever doubted the 
existence of soul ? I knew there were, or had been, materialists in 
the world; but I supposed they held, that the soul is '■ formed of 
the finest, lightest, smoothest, and most moveable material elements, 
and hence exquisitely etherialized and voIatiUi " Strnnge as it may 
appear, I did not understand from Good's remarks concerning Pro- 
fessor Lawrence's hypothesis, in the proem to the third volume of 
bis Study of Medicine, that Lawrence disbelieved the real existence 
of soul or mind. Under these circumstances I began to write my 
thesis on the passions ; I soon met with insurmountable difficulties 
— the soul appeared to be much in my way. At last thinks I, as I 
lay on my couch one night, what if I should put the soul entirely 
aside for the present — say that an Miction of the brain is a thought, 
and an action of the brain and a nerve together, a sensation ; and 
see how we can explain matters and things upon this supposition? 
Good George ! how things were altered -every thing was now plain 
and easy; the very facts which before puzzled me, now helped me. 
I lived light and regularly, took no stimulus, my brain was in an 
excellent thinking condition ; and 1 soon hit upon several of the 
more important pririciples of this work I supposed I had made a 
new discovery ; yet I could hardly believe that / had hit upon a 
truth which thousands of learned searchers had faileu to discover. 
But having never sot hold of any work written by a materialist, un- 
til within ten months from the present time; it is not two years 
since I was satisfied that any one ever believed there is no sucii 
thing as a mind (either material or immaterial) distinct from the 
brain. 

There is scarcely a sentence of mine in this work, but what I 
have composed within the last 12 months, and under circumstances 
that would prevent most men from sleeping. For the last four 
months, instead of correcting its errors, a- I ought to have done, I 
have been almost wholly employed in other business. I never ob- 
tained Lawrence's work, until the present was chiefly written; nor 
Brown's Philosophy, until about fourteen months ago — Brown 
helped me to langu ige, but I cannot say but that my notions con- 
cerning power, cause, and effect, were much the same before I read 
his work as now. 

I mention these things to show that I did not receive my opi- 
nions by inoculation ; but that they are the natural and irresistible 
conclusions to which the physical facts known to me, give rise. 

P. S» It was >4 months ago, that out of mere cariosity, T obtain- 
ed the hadhook I have mentioned : 1 shall only add, 1 was very 
much disappointed in the work. 



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